


Only For Tonight Part 1

by NuMo



Series: Only For Tonight [1]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Anal Fingering, Canon-Compliant, Double Penetration, F/F, Finger Fucking, Helena provides, Myka needs release, Oral Sex, Pool Sex, Porn With Plot, Size, Strap-On, Top Helena, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrator, bottom Myka, dildo, ear licking, end of season 2, mild bondage, mild sub!Myka moment, post-Vendetta pre-Burial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuMo/pseuds/NuMo
Summary: So I just wanted to write some smut for my favorite ship, and then I thought hey, why not write H.G. as [spoilers for part 2], and then the smut turned into a 3 parter of over 70K words. Ikeep tellingyou: I don’t do short. Idodo kinky, though. So as a little present in these weird self-isolating times, have! some! smuuuuut!Please take the tags seriously; this is a f/f slash fic that has A LOT of toys and penetrative sex. If it’s not your cuppa, just keep scrollin’. Fine by me, and I’ve written other smut that has less of these things, but this one does and I’m not going to feel bad for that. As always, feedback is always welcome.Chapter 1 is setup, hot stuff happens from chapter 2 onwards (go skip, you horny lovelies!), chapter 5 is cool-down and setup for part 2.
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Series: Only For Tonight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684066
Comments: 39
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

“You seem exhausted, darling.” Myka flinched as a hand sneaked around her elbow. Only her recognition of the speaker’s voice saved the speaker from an elbow to the face – that voice belonged to Helena. Newly re-instated agent Helena George ‘H.G.’ Wells was walking along beside Myka, as if it was the most mundane thing in the world for the unbronzed, female, born-in-1866 father of science fiction to be walking along a sidewalk in Colorado Springs. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” the accent-tinged voice went on, sounding abashed. “Pray forgive me.”

Myka exhaled and made a conscious effort to relax her shoulders. “Never mind that,” she said, and stopped and turned to the woman walking next to her. “Helena, what are you doing here?”

“Lending moral support,” Helena replied with a very slight questioning uptone on the last word. “If I may? If you are amenable?” With her hands now clasped in front of her, she looked up at Myka, head tilted in query.

Myka closed her eyes and gritted her teeth for a moment. Helena couldn’t know, could she? How hard it was to visit her parents, even for something as benign as a birthday party? “Thank you, but-”

“Do _not_ try,” Helena interrupted her very firmly, “to persuade me that you are alright.” 

Eyes still closed, Myka turned back towards her original destination – her car – inhaled deeply, opened her eyes, and set out again. After the briefest of moments, she heard Helena follow her. 

It was a short walk to where Myka had parked. The street that the bookstore was on was busy, and her father had always admonished her to not take away a parking spot from a potential customer. Myka smiled bitterly as she remembered that, at herself for still doing what he’d instilled in her. 

She took out her key to unlock the car, and felt a hand on her arm again. Barely suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she turned to Helena. “What,” she said flatly.

“Are you proposing to drive all the way home, or have you booked accommodation in the vicinity?” Helena asked. There was a truly concerned look in her eyes that made Myka soften her stance, if only a little.

She shook her head. “Haven’t booked anything,” she said. “If I get too tired driving home, I’ll find a motel somewhere along the way.” It wasn’t too late to try and make it to South Dakota; the party had started at noon, and Myka had not stayed for dinner, no matter the pleading looks her mother had given her. It wouldn’t be the first time Myka had arrived at Leena’s at three in the morning, but she was used to night-time driving. She found it soothing, in fact. And if it came to it, like she said, there was always the emergency overnight bag in the backseat. 

Helena nodded her understanding, but anything she might have said drowned in the sudden noise of squealing tires and a car horn blaring right behind Myka.

Myka whirled around and ducked instinctively, her left reaching out behind her to make sure Helena was safe, her right diving into her coat to-

The two drivers cursed at each other, honked their horns some more, and then drove on.

Myka’s shoulders slumped. Her right, instead of reaching for a gun that wasn’t in its holster but in the glove compartment of her car, came up to run across her face instead. 

There was a light touch on her left wrist. “If I may make a suggestion?”

“What,” Myka said again. This time, it came out weary, as tired as she suddenly felt. 

“I do have accommodation booked not too far from here,” Helena said. “If you are up to driving for about fifteen minutes, a bed awaits you.”

On cue, Myka was attacked by a yawn. And as she fought to suppress it, her stomach growled. 

“Food too, if you’re of a mind,” Helena added helpfully.

Myka raised her hands in surrender. “Fine,” she said. “Lead the way.” She unlocked her car and got into the driver’s seat. The idea of a drive that short was… unexpectedly attractive. Then the passenger door opened and she blinked. “Don’t you… aren’t you going to take your own car?” she asked. 

Helena chuckled. “Best not,” she said dryly. “I did make it here, but I’m distinctly aware that I don’t know the road rules well enough for city traffic yet. No, I left my car at the hotel; took a cab here and hoped for the best.”

“The best being a ride with me?” Myka asked, shaking her head with a smile while she started the engine.

“Is that so difficult to believe?” Helena asked back, buckling in. She gave Myka a very ostentatious look from beneath lowered lashes.

Myka laughed out loud – only the one time, but it felt good, after a whole afternoon full of being on her guard. Then she pointed to the small navigation system on the dashboard. “Mind plugging in the address while I pull out?”

The ride turned out to be closer to twenty minutes, but Myka didn’t mind. Twenty minutes beat seven hours, that was for sure. On top of that, driving around with H.G. Wells beat pretty much anything, no matter how long. To have the opportunity to speak with Helena uninterrupted, or just be with her, knowing who she was, was a dream come true, for twenty minutes or seven hours. And on top of _that_ , knowing that today, Helena had _chosen_ to be here, with Myka, however she’d known that Myka could use a friendly face after an afternoon with her family – Myka didn’t want to think too closely about what kind of dream was coming true with that kind of gesture. 

Helena had had a daughter, after all, and while that in itself didn’t necessarily imply straight-up heterosexuality, Myka also had gotten no hard and fast clues to non-heterosexuality from the other woman. True, Helena was flirtatious with her, but then that seemed to be her baseline, her normal, regardless of who she was talking to or their gender. Helena would flirt with _anyone_. 

On the other hand, Helena had come all the way to Colorado Springs. You didn’t do _that_ for anyone.

On the _other_ other hand, Helena was drop-dead gorgeous, and… well, Tracy had brought home her new boyfriend and they’d been all over each other _all day_. And, not to put too fine a point on it, Myka... had been going without for a long time now. And that look that Helena had been giving her just now? 

Myka shook her head to shoo the thought away. They were past the city limits now, heading south towards the mountains. “So where are we going?” she asked. She hadn’t recognized the address when she’d glanced at the navigation system’s screen.

“It’s a bit further into the mountains,” Helena said. “A somewhat secluded place, but apparently highly recommended for, and I quote, a pampered get-away.”

Myka snorted. “Just what I need,” she said with a good dose of sarcasm. From the corners of her eyes, she saw Helena regard her with tilted head and thoughtful expression. “No, really,” Myka said, shaking her head and gesturing wearily, “that kind of place? They only want your money. There’s no soul in it.”

“I would suggest waiting and seeing,” Helena said lightly. 

A few minutes later, Myka pulled off the main road and onto a dirt road that led, after winding through forested foothills, to a gate that swung open as they approached. “Quite the seclusion,” she muttered as they went through. 

She heard Helena chuckle. “I was given a clicker.” She took the little appliance from her pocket and held it up for Myka to see.

Myka half-glanced at it – night had fallen completely by now, and navigating the winding road was a task that needed her full attention. “Alright,” she said distractedly. They took one last curve, and the road opened up into a courtyard framed on three sides by a two-floor building. Myka had to admit that the place looked… nice. Inviting. Despite the log-cabin exterior, it didn’t look rusty or old-fashioned – it had clear lines, and large windows that spilled warm light out into the courtyard. “Not bad,” she said begrudgingly as she pulled to a stop.

Again, she heard a chuckle from the passenger seat, but this time, no reply was forthcoming. 

Helena preceded her into the building, and spoke to the man at the front desk as Myka looked around herself in order to not, in so many words, check out H.G. Wells’ behind. No, best to concentrate on architecture. The building was pleasantly airy, with accents of steel and slate to contrast creamy fabric upholstery. There seemed to be a restaurant nearby – Myka’s stomach growled again at the scent of food. 

“Myka?” Helena called from behind her. “Mr. Dobson here will show us to our cabin now. We can order room service when we’re there?”

Myka blinked as she turned around. “Room service.”

Helena smiled slightly. “It’s when you place your order via telephone-” she began, but stopped immediately when Myka took a deep, indignant breath. Holding up her arms in an appeasing gesture, she said, “Apologies. I’m sorry. Myka, I do apologize. Let’s head out, shall we?”

Myka let her breath stream out in a long exhale, willing her annoyance to go with it. “Okay,” she said. Then, as they were walking towards the back of the building, another employee approached her, hand outstretched. Myka frowned in confusion; surely it was too early for a tip? Or was this about her bag? It was barely larger than a handbag, but-

“Your car keys, ma’am?”

“Oh.” Myka gritted her teeth. Just how out of it was she to not have realized that? She truly needed a break. Needed to sit down and gather her wits and have food and not, repeat _not_ , think about her father for the rest of the evening. Or about Tracy and _Kevin_. _Or_ about ogling H.G. Wells. Or doing other things with H.G. Wells. “Sure.” She handed the woman her car key and turned to where Helena and the desk clerk were waiting. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am,” the desk clerk said with a professional smile. “It’s through here, please.” He held out his hand to trigger an automated sliding door, then pointed them towards a path. “Your cabin is the last on the left; your luggage is already waiting for you, Ms. Wells. The pool and spa is further through the same pathway.” 

“Thank you,” Helena said as she walked past him. “Coming, darling?” The look she cast back at Myka was… it was turnaround, that’s what it was, Myka decided. For that one time in Tamalpais. 

Definitely not flirtatious.

The path was clear of fallen leaves, and well illuminated. Smaller pathways branched off at regular intervals, with small wooden signposts indicating the cabin number they led to. The cabins weren’t easily visible in the dark; they seemed to be set back quite a bit, and a hedge lined the path to boot. Myka saw a few lit windows between the bushes and low trees, but couldn’t make out much among the bushes’ new growth of leaves. Truly, seclusion _was_ a thing here. Myka also noticed both the Braille on the posts as well as the differently-textured cobblestones that marked every branch-off. It was nice, she thought, to know that this place cared about being inclusive, and did so in a way that made clear it was an intentional part of the overall design, not an ADA-necessitated add-on. It made her relax a little more. 

“Ah, here we are,” Helena announced at the last branch to the left. “Number thirteen, as luck would have it,” she said over her shoulder, with a smile. 

Myka attempted an answering smile, but was ambushed by yet another yawn. “Sorry,” she said when it was over. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Helena said lightly. “I’m sure your afternoon was exhausting.” 

They turned one last corner, and Myka gasped. “Whoa,” she said under her breath. “Helena, how much did-”

“My treat,” Helena replied with a smile, stepping up to the door. “Allow me, darling, will you?”

Myka swallowed. The cabin was beautiful. Not a log structure like the main building, but a Japanese-inspired little house, whitewashed walls between dark wooden uprights under a curved tile roof overshadowed by a cherry tree in bloom. That’s what she could make out in the light coming from one window and a lamp over the door. “But-” she began.

Helena pushed open the door, then turned around to Myka and reached for her hands. “Myka, please,” she said in a low voice. “You have been, no, you _are_ such a good friend. Without your support, I literally would not be in any position to help anyone. You’ve been nothing but kind and caring towards me, even when you had no reason at all to be so. When I ask you to allow me to try and repay that, I am not speaking of financial transactions, but of an attempt to alleviate your stress and turmoil for a while. To help you, as you’ve helped me. Truly, any price tag on this,” she gestured around the quiet night, “is insignificant compared to my need to return your kindness and care in kind.”

Myka blinked, trying to process this. A good friend. Definitely not flirtatious. Kindness. Then her stomach growled again, and she blushed. 

Helena chuckled again, and Myka thought she could get used to the sound. “Do come inside, and let’s have dinner, shall we?”

Myka sighed. “I… I suppose,” she said. She let go of one of Helena’s hands to rub her fingers down her face. Then she straightened up. “Alright.”

“Aces.” Helena smiled and tugged on Myka’s other hand to lead her inside. 

The cabin’s interior was no less beautiful than its exterior had been. Less of the main building’s slate and steel, more of creamy whites, golden wood, and soft earthen tones that made it feel utterly cozy. A fire was burning in a fireplace on the left, facing a couch and an easy chair. Behind it, at right angles to a wall made of floor-length windows now curtained against the night, was a table with two chairs and a tasteful arrangement of flowers. Behind that, a wall with low sideboard and a door that, presumably, led to a bedroom. Helena’s suitcase was indeed already waiting for them next to that door.

“Let’s have your coat, darling,” Helena said, startling Myka out of her contemplation of the room. When Myka looked at her, she saw that Helena was already out of coat and boots, and holding out her hand expectantly. 

“Oh. Uh, sure. Thanks.” Slightly awkwardly, Myka shrugged out of her coat and handed it to Helena, then slipped her boots off and put them on the shoe rack next to the door. Then she stepped off the tiles and onto the carpet. A sigh escaped her at its softness – it felt like walking on clouds. 

“Agreeable, is it not?” Helena said. Myka looked at her, then, prompted by the way Helena pointedly looked down, followed the other woman’s gaze and saw her dig her stockinged toes into the plush carpet. 

It made Myka giggle. “God, I feel lightheaded,” she said, shaking her head at herself. “I really, _really_ need food. All my mother had was cake and more cake.”

Helena frowned as she gestured for Myka to head towards the table. “Does she not know about you not eating sugar?”

“Oh, she does,” Myka said darkly. “But she thinks that I’m castigating myself needlessly, something along those lines. So she ignores it.” There was a menu on the table, and her hands started reaching for it long before she was close enough to grab it.

“Not just ignoring, I’d say, but actively sabotaging,” Helena replied. She pulled out a chair. Myka, already immersed in the food offerings, let herself be pushed into it. “Anything good?”

“Hmm?” It was a veritable restaurant menu Myka held in her hands. No prices, she noticed, swallowing again. 

“Do you see anything you like?” 

“All of it,” Myka said before she could stop herself. Then she shook her head quickly and looked up to give Helena a warning glance. “Don’t you _dare_ ordering the whole menu, though,” she said. “At this point, there isn’t much I’d put past you.”

“Good,” Helena replied with a small smile. 

“Good?”

“I’d hoped to give you the impression that there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to… lift your burden tonight,” Helena said. “It would appear I succeeded.” Then, without any further comment, she craned her neck looking around the room. “Ah,” she said. “There it is.” She headed away from Myka.

“What is?” Myka wasn’t quite done processing the ‘isn’t much I wouldn’t do’ yet.

“The telephone,” Helena replied, coming back with said device in hand. How could anyone walk this elegantly _on socks_ , Myka wondered. How-

“Right.” Myka, suddenly aware that she was staring at Helena approaching, quickly looked down at the menu. “The, uh, the house salad, please,” she said, focusing on the choice at hand and not on what Helena might or might not mean by her words. Food. Choice. Put any other thoughts firmly away. Nothing too filling – she might make use of that pool and spa yet, if it came included in the whole thing. As fancy as this place was, they probably provided swimsuits. God, her thoughts were all over the place. She really needed to get them in order.

“Righty-ho,” Helena said with a nod. “Any drink to go along with it?” 

Myka leafed through to the drinks section. The cocktail section sang out to her – part of her _really_ felt like a stiff drink. That, too, wouldn’t be a good idea before heading into a sauna or going for a swim, though. Or for staving off anything… Helena-related. Her gaze fell on the ‘non-alcoholic drinks’ section of the menu, and her eyebrows rose. “This,” she said, and pointed towards one of the mocktails. 

“Indulgent, but non-alcoholic,” Helena said, nodding again. “So very sensible.”

“Nah,” Myka said, reaching the menu over to her, “I’m just thinking of what the desk clerk said. Pool and spa – not sensible, but potentially in the books for me tonight.” And luckily, sometimes part of the truth was convincing enough all by itself.

Helena smiled brightly. “That,” she said, “sounds like a good start.”

“A start?” Myka asked, her indignation only half pretended. “I intend it to be an _end_ to this night.”

“Of course,” Helena replied immediately. “Exhausted. Got it.” And she gave Myka a jaunty salute, reminding her once again of their retrieval at UC Tamalpais. 

As Helena stepped away to place the order on the phone, Myka watched her. H.G. Wells, she thought for what must have been the millionth time. H.G. Wells, formerly a Warehouse agent, again a Warehouse agent, and a… well, a beautiful, brilliant woman who – who wanted to be _kind_ to Myka. Kind, nothing less, but also nothing more. And yet those lips, that were talking so animatedly now, looked so kissable. Myka ducked her head as Helena looked over, noticing Myka’s attention, but instead of frowning, Helena shot her another smile. Myka smiled back almost involuntarily, mortified at the thought that any notions of ‘kissable’ might have been readable on her face. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Helena announced after ending the call. “Will you make it that long?” 

The way she stood there, head slightly tilted, phone still in one hand, she could have been just any twenty-first century woman, Myka thought _. But she’s not. She’s H.G. motherfrickin’ Wells, and she’s here to… to lift my burden. To be kind to me. Me! Bering the bookworm! The weirdo who wore glasses and took fencing lessons and knew words no one else had ever heard!_

“Myka? Are you quite alright?” Helena was standing right in front of Myka now, touching her shoulder solicitously.

Myka flinched again, just like she had the first time Helena had touched her today. 

Helena clicked her tongue quietly. “So tightly wound,” she tutted. “We shall have to see what can be done to undo that tonight.” She gave a light pat to Myka’s shoulder and turned to the sideboard, completely oblivious to how her words had burned their way into Myka’s insides. “Let’s see, now.” She opened a door, then the other one, and bent down with a softly exclaimed “A-ha!” Myka heard the clink of bottles, then Helena straightened. “A glass of water while we wait?”

Before Myka could reply, her stomach growled her response for her. “Please, yes,” she said quickly to cover her embarrassment. A moment later, a glass of water was put in front of her. “Thanks,” she said, and downed half of it in one go.

“Gently, gently,” Helena admonished with a chuckle. “Don’t make yourself sick before the food arrives.”

“Nah,” Myka said, and then groaned as her stomach, either happy to be finally filled or dissatisfied by the fact it was only being filled with water, growled yet again. “Will you _stop_ ,” she implored it. 

“Not much more than ten minutes now, I’m sure,” Helena said soothingly. “Shall we explore the rest of the cabin until then?”

“Distraction,” Myka said and stood immediately. “Good idea.”

“I do have my moments,” Helena said, eyes cast modestly downwards, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

Myka strode past her towards the door. “Come on, Wells, you wanted to explore, let’s explore.” Anything to help her focus on anything else but H.G. Wells’ mouth.

“Aye aye.”

Myka, standing in the doorway, didn’t look back to see if Helena was saluting again – her eyes were riveted to what they saw in the next room.

“Oh,” she heard Helena say softly behind her. 

“That,” Myka said, “looks like the softest, most luxurious bed I have ever seen. In my life.”

“If only,” Helena said in slightly strained tones, “there were two of it. Goodness, Myka, I am so sorry, they must have mixed up-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Myka sighed. It was an admonishment to herself as much as advice for Helena – _don’t worry about it. Don’t even_ think _about being in the same bed as Helena._  
  
“But-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Myka repeated resignedly. “Let’s have dinner first. _Then_ we call the front desk, see if something can be done.”

“Ah. Yes.” Helena nodded. Then she looked past the bed. “Oh – it would appear that is the bathroom,” she announced, and headed towards it. “Won’t hurt to have a look, would it?”

“I suppose not,” Myka shrugged and followed her. Again, she stopped short at what she saw when she went through the door. “Will you look at the size of that!” 

The bathroom was almost as large as the bedroom, but that wasn’t what had caught Myka’s eye. She walked forward slowly, reverentially. The floor was tiled – here, now, the dark slate made a comeback – but Myka barely noticed. The floor was heated, but that, too, she barely noticed. Her eyes were riveted to one thing, and one thing only. 

“Is that a… a tub? A pool?”

At the far end of the bathroom, in pride of place as it were, an area about four feet wide and twelve feet long was recessed more than hip-deep into the ground, with steps leading down it at one end, and a ledge to sit on at the other end. Above that ledge, a large, wide faucet gleamed.

“One of the things this hotel advertises with,” Helena said from the door, “is what they call an ‘en suite onsen’. The spa, I’m told, is modeled after Japanese hot springs. The pools in it are fed from the property’s own thermal spring, as is this private bath.” Her voice had been coming closer as she spoke, until she arrived next to Myka. “I thought you might appreciate this. I will admit it was a major selling point.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Myka said, turning to her. “The way Pete always hogs the hot water? The way the tub is way too small to really stretch out in? This… this is…” She was saved from finding a suitable word for what this was by a knock on the door. “Dinner!” Myka made for the door as fast as her feet would carry her, both to get to where the food was and to get away from where her thoughts were turning. 

The next twenty minutes or so were spent in quiet bliss that was only occasionally broken by an appreciative noise. The salad was delightful, Myka concluded, and Helena seemed to enjoy her steak just as much. And the mocktail was amazing; a rainbow of fruit juices with a perfect strawberry on top. 

“Thank you,” Myka said halfway through her meal, when the worst of her hunger had been sated. “I really appreciate all of this.”

Helena looked up at her with a smile. “Good,” she said simply, then resumed eating. 

Myka followed suit. Then, when she was finished, when she’d drained the last drops of her drink and couldn’t draw dinner out for longer, she reluctantly said, “About the bed…”

“Oh!” Helena, too, put down her wine glass. “Yes, let’s call the front desk and see if they can…” she gestured towards the bedroom, “do something about that.”

Two minutes later, Helena ended the call and slumped back in her chair. “No other rooms or cabins available; so I shall sleep on the sofa, which apparently doubles as an extra bed. Someone will be here momentarily to prepare it.” She looked up and pointed a finger at Myka. “You,” she said emphatically, “will _not_ offer to sleep on the sofa. _You_ are here for relaxation.”

“But-” _You’re the one who’s paying for all of this_ , Myka wanted to protest. Helena’s finger, now raised admonishingly, stopped her short. 

“No buts,” Helena said firmly. “Besides, you never know,” she added, “the sofa could be just as comfy a bed as the large one is.”

“We could share,” Myka said, and immediately clamped her mouth shut. Where had _that_ come from? It wasn’t just a bad idea; it was the worst idea _ever_. She wasn’t even drunk, so where the hell had that come from?

Luckily for Myka, Helena seemed to catch up on her mortification. “You don’t seem actually comfortable with that thought,” Helena said evenly but with raised eyebrows, “so we’ll just pretend you hadn’t uttered it, shall we?”

“But-” Myka said again, as if something compelled her to dig herself in deeper. 

Again, she was saved by a knock on the door. “Come,” Helena called out, and a housekeeping employee entered, carrying a stack of sheets and a pillow. 

“Ms. Wells, we’re very sorry for the inconvenience,” he said. Without missing a beat, he slipped plastic covers over his shoes, then proceeded towards the couch. 

“That’s quite alright,” Helena said. “Thank you.”

It took the man barely five minutes to turn the couch into a bed. He turned, apologized again, and left as neatly as he’d come. 

“Well, here we are,” Helena said, turning from contemplating the sofa bed back to Myka with a smile. “All set.”

Myka exhaled a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and stretched. “Yeah,” she said then, letting her head sink back. Now that she had eaten, she felt incredibly tired. 

“How would you feel about a nice hot bath, then?” Helena asked. “Now that we know we’re staying in this cabin?”

“God, that sounds heavenly,” Myka replied immediately, without so much as opening her eyes. 

“I’ll start it up for you, then.”

Part of Myka wanted to protest that she was fully able to do so herself, but Helena _had_ said she wanted to do what she could to help Myka relax, right? Myka wasn’t sure exactly which turn of phrase Helena had used, and she was too tired to try and recall it, but it had been words to that effect. ‘Pampering’ had also been mentioned, hadn’t it? 

“The leaflet states,” she heard Helena’s voice approach again from the direction of the bedroom door, “that it takes about twenty minutes for the bath to fill. No bath salts, bubble bath, or any other additives are allowed; as they say, and I quote, ‘we highly recommend taking the waters as they are; their content of minerals and trace elements is what distinguishes them’, exclamation mark.” Myka heard a rustle of paper, but refused to open her eyes. Helena had it all in hand, literally. “There was no temperature dial,” Helena went on, all the way inside the room now to judge by her voice. “Water temperature is centrally regulated to, and I quote again, ‘precisely 102 degrees Fahrenheit for our guests’ enjoyment’. Then there’s a long paragraph in small print detailing how one can deduct that the water temperature is too high for one’s health, and what to do in such a case.” 

Myka gave a hum of acknowledgement. “Call for my fellow agent, I assume,” she said without opening her eyes.

“No,” Helena said in an indecisive tone of voice, drawing out the vowel and rustling the paper again, sounding for all the world as if she was truly perusing the leaflet to look for that particular information. It made Myka smile. “It does not, in fact, specify that particular approach. However, you still can, of course,” Helena added. “I shall be right along to save you. Kicking down the door if necessary.”

“Why would I lock it?” Myka asked, gesturing vaguely in Helena’s direction. “You know I’m in there, it’s not like I need to signal to you that the bathroom is occupied. You’re not Pete or Claudia, you wouldn’t just randomly come bursting in.”

“Oh, you never know.”

It was delivered so airily that Myka laughed despite herself. “Yeah, right,” she said dryly, straightening and rubbing her eyes. “Ugh,” she then said, “I probably just smooshed my make-up. I should go and take it off; take a shower too, that’s onsen etiquette, right? Showering before going in?”

“Correct,” Helena replied, tapping the leaflet she’d put on the sideboard with one finger. “The leaflet mentions it, too.” 

“Well then,” Myka said, pushing herself up from the chair, “don’t wanna disappoint the leaflet.”

The shower was every bit as luxurious as the bath, and it did come with a regulator to pick your desired temperature. The provided shampoo and body soap smelled nice and felt good, so Myka made use of them instead of the miniatures she had in her emergency bag. When she came out of the shower, the water level in the bath had risen again, noticeably. She went through the rest of her evening bathroom routine and checked the pool again: perfect. She turned off the water, fumbled a hairband out of her bag and began putting her hair into a bun on top of her head for the bath and the night.

The bath water had a slightly metallic scent and was hot enough that Myka flinched when she first put her foot in it. Hissing softly through her teeth, she took the next step more slowly, waiting for her body to adjust before going in deeper. It wasn’t until Myka was sitting and leaning back on the ledge at the far side of the bath that she realized that she hadn’t brought a book, her phone, or anything else that would serve as entertainment. The only thing she had were her thoughts.

And those thoughts were, unerringly, returning to Helena, presenting Myka with a collage of memories: the expression of sheer marvel that crossed Helena’s face at lift-off every time they flew somewhere; slender fingers running through ebony black hair; a slim body bending and weaving to navigate the tight environs of a clothes’ store she’d pulled Myka into the last time they were in New York; every single dazzling smile Helena had ever beamed Myka’s way, every single slow gaze and secret smirk and bitten lip-

No, Myka told herself sternly. _Don’t think about her lips. Do not. Think. About her lips._

But her thoughts weren’t so easily deterred. They showed Myka how Helena’s lips moved when she formed certain words, how they twitched ever so slightly when she suppressed a smile, how they could turn sardonic with the minutest twist, how they were so very, very, mobile, expressive, soft-

“No!” Myka said out loud, then blushed immediately. Helena must have heard that. 

Sure enough, a moment later Helena’s voice came through the door. “Are you alright, darling?”

‘Darling’. Sometimes the endearment was hard to bear. Myka took a deep breath and hoped her voice would be cooperative, stable, unrevealing when she answered. “Yeah,” she called back, “just lost in thoughts. Sorry if I bothered you.” Well, that had sounded inconspicuous enough, hadn’t it?

“Not at all. I’ll leave you to it, then,” Helena replied. “And I do hope your thoughts will turn to more pleasant subject matters.”

Myka suppressed a groan, and sank back onto her ledge with a silent exhalation. The water enveloped her with its warmth again, like the gentlest of embrace-

 _No._ “Jeez,” Myka muttered softly to herself through gritted teeth. She had to get a grip on herself. She’d been worked up all afternoon, witnessing Tracy and Kevin’s PDAs and even a few stolen kisses, watching Helena speak and move and… and _exist_ , and now-

Myka blinked as she realized something. It _was_ that time of her cycle, wasn’t it? Ovulation meant horniness; it always had. She did allow herself that groan now, taking care to keep it quiet enough that it wouldn’t carry. 

How long had it been since she’d last… well, done something about the matter? Not just sex with another person, but _anything_ , even by herself? She quickly browsed through her memory – weeks, no: more. A couple of months, easily. This year at all? Okay, it was mid-March, but… _had_ she? 

But nothing was stopping her from doing something about it right now, was it? A quick little bit of self-help to take the edge off? Just another way to enjoy the largest frickin’ hot bath she’d ever been in? 

Her pulse was already throbbing between her legs, and she rolled her eyes at herself, at her body’s clear and eager anticipation. She’d have to be quick – might be a tad difficult without any toys, but definitely doable in the state that she was in; and she’d have to be quiet – well, she knew how to do _that_. She’d been living in close vicinity to five people for a while now, after all.

Alright.

Myka shut her eyes, told her body to relax, and let one hand sink towards her breast and the other towards her still-throbbing center. Her fingers closed around her nipple and she exhaled silently, rolling and rubbing it, massaging and squeezing the flesh underneath it. The fingers of her other hand slid between her folds. When they found their target, Myka exhaled again. Her clit was already aquiver with pent-up energy; this would not take long. She set to work with determination, quickly sinking into the feelings her fingers were calling forth.

God, what she wouldn’t do for someone’s tongue instead of her fingers.

The thought shot through her brain and instantly froze her. 

Fuck.

 _Fuck_ , she repeated to herself and squeezed her eyes shut even more tightly. She knew exactly whose someone’s tongue she wanted on her clit. And that someone was outside, completely innocent of anything that was happening here, of any lewd thoughts shooting through Myka’s brain and freezing her. Right on the other side of the door, probably listening to music, or reading, or going down a Wikipedia rabbit hole or something. 

“Would you like me to help you with that?” an accent-tinged voice murmured in her ear.

With a yelp and a splash, Myka sat up, eyes wide open, hands flailing to keep her from flopping over in the water. “What the-” she spluttered wildly. “Helena!”

Helena knelt next to the bath, naked and matter-of-fact, as if it was the most natural thing that she should be in here. “Orgasms are marvelous for relaxation, I’ve always thought,” she said, as if that was the most natural thing for her to be talking about _in this tone of voice_. She stood and walked the length of the pool, as if it was the most natural thing for her to do in this state of undress. 

“Helena, what-”

“I’m offering to help you with that, if you’re amenable,” Helena said with a shrug, now standing at the steps leading into the pool. 

Myka couldn’t help but take her in – _drink_ her in, eyes eagerly roaming every inch of skin even though she knew she shouldn’t, knew she should look elsewhere instead of at porcelain skin accentuated by freckles, at slender wrists and ankles accentuated by two thin bracelets – she’d seen the armband before, but hadn’t noticed the ankle chain, but then again she hadn’t ever seen Helena’s ankles before, had she – she’d never seen-

Helena’s breasts. 

Myka swallowed. 

They, like Helena’s stomach, showed the signs of having had a child – they looked softer than Myka’s, and she could see the thin silvery lines of stretch marks accentuate Helena’s skin. 

Helena was so beautiful. 

Myka swallowed again. “Offering… help?” she said and was surprised at how hungry her voice sounded. 

A smile played around Helena’s lips, such as Myka had never seen before. Then again, considering, there was a lot she was seeing right now that she hadn’t seen before. “I did say there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to help you tonight, didn’t I?”

That, at least, was easy to answer. “To lift my burden, you said,” Myka replied, as if on autopilot. 

Helena shrugged again, and her smirk deepened. “Details,” she said. “I believe I got the part that matters right.” She looked down and then up again, and gestured towards the steps at her feet. “Mind if I join you, then?” 

Myka hesitated. Would yes to that question mean a yes to Helena’s… offer?

“I’m only asking about the bath,” Helena said, as if she’d read Myka’s thought. “I’m getting a tad chilly out here, I’m afraid.”

As if drawn by magnets, Myka’s eyes went towards Helena’s nipples, which did look the part. Then Helena chuckled, and Myka jerked her eyes upwards again. “Sorry,” she said quickly, mortified at being caught. “Yeah, sure, I mean it’s totally large enough for both of us.” She was babbling. Myka snapped her mouth shut.

Helena’s smile grew grateful. She extended one foot and Myka held up a hand quickly.

“Watch out,” she said, “the water is really hot.”

“One hundred and two degrees Fahrenheit,” Helena nodded, dipping her foot daintily down. “I remember.” She exhaled softly as she took the second step. 

Myka looked at Helena’s feet as if hypnotized. Then she shook herself. “Aren’t you going to take those off?” she asked, pointing to Helena’s ankle and wrist adornments. 

Helena shook her head. “I like the feeling of them on my skin when I’m in water,” she said. “The locket, of course, wouldn’t fare well when submerged, but these will do just fine.”

“Okay,” Myka said, and realized two things at once: one, that her repertoire of small talk for the occasion was now deplete, and two, that Helena was now fully in the pool and coming towards her. 

Luckily, Helena diverged halfway through, not heading straight for Myka but for the empty spot next to Myka on the ledge. Myka kept her eyes resolutely forwards, focusing on the reflections of the overhead lights on the water’s surface. 

“It would seem that you are tense again,” Helena said after a moment. 

Myka laughed once, feeling lightheaded, helpless, in over her head. “You could… you could say that, yeah.”

“Anything I can do about that?”

Not be here, Myka wanted to shout, but it would have been a lie. Her heart was beating in her throat, but it also throbbed between her legs, and she wanted nothing more than to turn to Helena and… and ravish her, something along those lines anyway. But it wasn’t that easy, was it? “It’s… it’s not that easy,” she said, giving voice to what kept her rooted to the spot. 

“Ah,” Helena said immediately. “Yes, I think I know what you mean. How would we be affected by this act; how would it affect our collaboration as agents, how would it affect our friendship – is that it?”

Myka nodded. “Yeah,” she said thickly. That was all the eloquence she still had at her disposal.

Helena nodded, too. “I understand that,” she said. That was it – three simple words, then nothing further. 

After a few moments of silence, Myka turned her head to look at her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s… it’s very tempting,” she admitted. “And while I’ve had casual hook-ups before, I’ve never been in a friends with benefits situation. I don’t even know if that’s what this is – what this would be.” Again, she kept her eyes resolutely on their target – Helena’s face – even though Helena’s shoulders, sparkling with drops of water, called out to her. 

“Friends with benefits,” Helena repeated, slowly, as if sussing out the words’ meaning. Then she smiled. “It does seem like a good idea to me,” she said. “We are both adults; we are friends; we can fill this need for each other. Clearly beneficial.” She tilted her head towards Myka. “And you clearly do have a need,” she added with a small smirk that stood right on the border between wicked and understanding. 

Myka blushed. She’d almost managed to forget about the state she’d been, the activity she’d been engaging in, when Helena had come in. Focus, she told herself. Helena had shown no reluctance or aversion to the phrases ‘casual sex’ and ‘friends with benefits’, nor to the aforementioned state. No prudish Victorian hang-ups there. ‘A good idea’ was what she’d called it. Myka agreed, wholeheartedly. Her whole body yearned to move forward and explore that good idea, but there was one thing she needed to do first. “Do you understand the concept of friends with benefits?” she asked. “I mean, are we both clear on what we want and what we don’t want from this?” 

Helena raised her eyebrows in surprise, but then nodded. “I see,” she said. “That is another good idea, is it not? Expectation management, I believe it is called nowadays.” She straightened her head. “I would very much like to alleviate your need for relaxation,” she said. Her oddly formal words helped clear Myka’s head. “I am offering help in the form of acts of a sexual nature executed upon your body, designed to bring about orgasm, without expectations of a transactional nature, be it of the sexual or emotional kind.”

Myka slowly parsed that. “What exactly do you mean by that last bit?” she asked finally. 

“Oh.” Helena smiled. “Apologies. I mean to say that I should like to focus on you exclusively, and I don’t expect you to return the favor. Also, no emotional strings attach to this – I believe that’s how you could rephrase it?”

Myka swallowed. Helena’s words rang in her head. ‘Focus on you exclusively’ – good manners be damned, that was exactly what she wanted. “Okay,” she said, and it came out hoarsely, almost inaudible. She cleared her throat, and held Helena’s gaze clearly and firmly. “Okay,” she repeated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck yeah pool sex. Oral and fingers.

Myka saw Helena release a breath – had she been holding it? Was she as nervous as Myka was? As excited, too? There was a gleam in Helena’s eyes that seemed to say so, as she moved towards Myka in the pool’s hot water. When she was less than a foot away, Myka held up a hand. “One question,” she asked, and now her voice no longer sounded hoarse – it sounded husky. Hungry. 

“Yes?” Helena, too, sounded affected. 

“When you say you want to focus on me,” Myka said, swallowing at the thought, “can I… I want to kiss you.”

This time, the effect her words had on Helena was even more visible. “Yes.” And the catch in her voice even more audible. “Please.”

Myka didn’t need telling twice. She rushed forwards, caught Helena’s face in both of her hands, and leaned in, the pent-up hunger and want she’d been keeping in pushing her on. Then she stopped. Helena’s eyes were wide, dark, eager, her mouth half-open in expectation, her breath irregular and uneven. Myka wanted to sear this image into her mind, of how Helena looked right before this. They were both trembling, Myka could feel it through her hands, like magnets that had reached the point at which their mutual attraction was not quite enough to make them slam into each other, but had already begun to tug at whatever friction held them back. 

She wanted to savor this. 

She ran her thumb across Helena’s cheek, and saw Helena’s eyelids flutter. Helena’s eyes stayed open, though, as fixed on Myka’s face as Myka’s were on hers. She brought her thumb down again, further, catching the very edge of Helena’s upper lip, and felt a stuttered exhalation across it, felt Helena’s head move forward, pressing herself into Myka’s hands – they still weren’t touching anywhere else, only connected by the hot water that cradled them both. 

Myka’s eyes roamed Helena’s face, drinking in the white skin, the splashes of water and smattering of freckles, the small imperfections, the half-lidded eyes and half-open mouth, the way her thumb slightly depressed the flesh on Helena’s cheek. She kept her eyes open as she leaned in, sliding them shut only at the very last moment, fractions of a second before her mouth touched Helena’s lips. 

So soft. A drop of water with its slightly metallic flavor, a small remnant of the scent of the wine Helena had had for dinner, the slightest of trembles as Helena’s lips pressed against Myka’s, moving, pushing, retreating, nipping, giving as good as she got. 

It was exquisite. 

Myka made a sound deep in her throat as she pushed further towards Helena, but a hand on her sternum stopped her. She broke the kiss, but before she could say anything, she heard Helena’s breathy voice against her cheek. 

“Please,” Helena said, “let me.”

It sent shivers down Myka’s spine, down from where Helena’s hand was almost cool on her sternum against the heat of the water, down into the pool of tightness between her legs. She nodded, once, jerkily, and dropped her hands. “Alright.”

Helena moved slightly to the side, keeping the pressure up on Myka’s breast bone, urging her back and moving with her until Myka was leaning against the backrest of the sitting ledge and Helena was hovering next to her. “Arm around my shoulder,” Helena instructed, “and lift yourself up for a moment.”

Unquestioningly, Myka did as asked, and suddenly there was contact, skin on skin, so much more than lips on lips or hand on sternum. Suddenly Myka was in Helena’s lap, her side pressed up against Helena’s chest, shoulder wedged in under shoulder, arm across Helena’s back and holding on to Helena’s far shoulder. Suddenly Helena all but embraced her, one arm behind Myka’s back, one knee pulled up and under Myka’s butt, one hand on Myka’s opposite hip to steady her. 

“I’ve got you,” Helena whispered. “I’ll hold you.” Her hand came up from Myka’s shoulder blade to cradle the nape of her neck. “You can let go, darling.” This time, it was her who bridged the distance between their mouths. This time, the kiss was more heated, more intent – Helena deepened it, her tongue flicking against Myka’s upper lip quick as lightning, then returning to linger and trace its outline until Myka opened her mouth to allow it in. 

Myka’s heart was beating hard and fast against her ribs. She brought her hand up to pull Helena’s face closer to her, to deepen the kiss even further, but Helena broke away, catching Myka’s hand, kissing the tips of her fingers, and saying, again, “Let me.”

And suddenly Myka understood the scope of what Helena was asking. 

She let her hand sink back into the water. She let her head sink into the cradle made by Helena’s hand. Her body slid closer to Helena’s as Myka released the tension in her muscles and gave herself over to whatever Helena was planning for her.

“Thank you,” Helena whispered reverentially, and then sank her lips onto Myka’s again. 

Through the sensations that Helena’s mouth was waking on hers, Myka felt a small flutter of water across her nipples – Helena must have moved her hand across them close and fast enough to move the water, but not actually touching them. Involuntarily, Myka arched her back. In response, she could feel Helena’s lips pull into a smile. The motion, however, did not return. Myka focused on the kiss again, on how Helena nipped at her lips, how she ran her tongue across the corner of them, making Myka’s back arch again. Then, again, the flutter. Myka gave a small sound of discontent, and Helena actually chuckled, her breath tickling Myka’s cheek as it escaped through her nose. 

And just as Myka was focusing on that, Helena slipped a finger inside of her. 

Myka groaned into their kiss, shaking with the sudden need for more, for release, for-

A second finger joined the first, and Myka keened. _Yes,_ she thought, _yes, and thank you, god yes_ – but she knew she’d never be able to come through internal stimulation alone, and she also knew that she did not want Helena to stop kissing her or remove the hand that held up Myka’s head, but she needed-

Helena’s thumb landed on her clit, and Myka arched up and into her, almost crying with relief as the first edge of orgasm caught her. Helena tensed her fingers against Myka’s insides, pulsing them against Myka’s walls in the same rhythm that her thumb was dancing on Myka’s clit, and Myka sang out in release. 

The orgasm ebbed off as quickly as it had come, and Myka found herself laughing quietly. “Well, that was fast,” she said, almost too surprised to feel embarrassed.

“Indicator of your need, I daresay.” Helena sounded just as amused. Her fingers were still buried inside Myka, and between them and Helena’s other hand cradling Myka’s neck, Myka felt exquisitely held afloat. “I can but hope your need is not sufficiently satiated, though,” Helena added. “I have a few ideas for how to go on, if you’re willing.”

Myka laughed out loud at that. “Willing is a very, very fitting word for what I am,” she said. She didn’t feel tired anymore either, not when this was in the cards.

“And are you ready as well?” Helena inquired with raised eyebrows. 

“Let’s try and find out,” Myka told her. 

“Aces,” Helena exhaled. There was an excited gleam in her eyes. She shifted her weight slightly, and her fingers slid out of Myka, sparking a small aftershock. Helena smiled knowingly at Myka’s gasp. “I should like you to stretch out on the water,” she said. “Your head on the ledge – use the towel for padding if you will – and your legs on my shoulders.”

Myka’s jaw dropped as she realized what Helena planned. Then she hurried to comply. 

“Oh,” Helena breathed reverentially when they were repositioned. She was looking straight at Myka’s folds; her breath tickled the insides of Myka’s thighs, sending a shiver through her. However, as Helena moved forwards, Myka’s legs threatened to slide off her shoulders. 

“I don’t think I can hold myself up that way,” Myka said, casting around for a solution. Her eyes fell on the edge of the pool, and she gestured towards it. “I can put one heel on there,” she said, “if I angle my body over.”

Helena smirked. “Let’s try it, shall we?” She followed Myka’s motions, staying close between her legs and supporting her back as Myka lifted her leg up onto the pool’s edge. “Excellent,” Helena announced. Then, without further ado, she descended.

Myka’s head pressed into the towel as she felt Helena’s tongue slide between her folds. One of Helena’s arms held up Myka’s unsupported thigh, and her other hand was on the small of Myka’s back, helping to hold Myka’s body afloat between the hotness of the water and the coolness of the air. Helena delved in, darted here and there, lapped and laved and lavished attention on every inch she could reach – except Myka’s clit. Myka approved of this at first, since it was still tender from her first orgasm, but as her arousal heightened, she felt the want, the _need_ , for Helena to go there. 

This time, though, Helena did not heed Myka’s silent pleas. Instead, she licked the length of Myka’s labia, nipped at them with her lips, teased Myka’s entrance with quick darting movements of her tongue, until Myka felt she was humming with arousal, strung tight like a violin string, waiting for the one thing that would send her over the edge again. 

She felt Helena detach her hand and keenly lamented its absence. Then she felt Helena pull her head back slightly, and was about to protest when fingers fluttered in the water around her entrance, teasing its folds apart then sliding in. Their pressure made Myka exhale even if the angle felt a little different than before. She tried to analyze it, but then Helena’s tongue flicked across Myka’s clit and she gave up on that endeavor. Her hands came up, curled themselves around the edge of the pool, and held on for dear life as Helena started to move her fingers in small, flickering motions, touching and caressing Myka’s insides while her tongue danced on Myka’s clit. 

Myka arched her back again, and Helena’s thumb followed the motion, slipping between her butt cheeks and landing firmly on Myka’s perineum. A breathy groan escaped Myka at the sensation, and for a brief, very brief moment, she wondered about her own reaction – she’d never seen much appeal in that area but now, here, she very much did – then Helena pressed down slightly, rhythmically, matching her speed and direction to that of her fingers inside Myka, and Myka came again. 

She clung to the edge of the pool as she bucked, and suddenly, worry about slipping off of or submerging Helena doused her like a bucket of cold water. She tensed, and Helena instantly withdrew, placing her hands on Myka’s hips to steady her in the water. 

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Myka panted, pulling back and righting herself. “Gimme a moment.”

“A bit too precarious?” Helena asked, from an arm’s reach away. 

Myka nodded, then shook herself. “Sorry,” she said, “that was quite the whiplash.”

“All’s well, though,” Helena said, tilting her head. “Isn’t it?”

Myka nodded again. “Yeah. Thanks for the quick save.”

“Of course.” Helena paused for a moment. “Shall we withdraw to the bed? Rather fewer chances of slipping off the edge, generally speaking.”

Myka snorted a soft laugh. “Sometimes you’re too Victorian for words,” she said. Then she blinked and turned to look at Helena, jaw slack as realization dawned, once again, as it still did every now and then. “You’re H.G. Wells,” she whispered. 

Helena threw her head back and laughed out loud – only the one time, just like Myka had earlier. Then she looked at Myka again with a very fond smile on her face. “I would not have thought that at this point in our association this fact would continue to be as astonishing as your face says it is.”

“No, I mean, yes,” Myka stuttered, “but I mean… I mean I’m hooking up with you. With H.G. Wells.”

“You are that,” Helena said, moving closer to Myka with an intent look upon her face. “And I hope you shall continue to do so.”

“I mean,” Myka went on, ignoring her for a moment, “you’d think that I was used to it by now – not the hooking up, I mean,” she added with a sidelong glance at Helena, “but, you know, the whole you being H.G. Wells thing.”

“One would think so, yes,” Helena replied, amusement dancing in her eyes and in her voice. “However I must admit I do cherish this moment. I so rarely get the acknowledgement.” There was a dark tinge of regret and sadness in the amusement now.

Myka wrinkled her eyebrows. “Do you sometimes wish people knew who you are?” she asked. 

At that, Helena huffed a laugh that was completely devoid of amusement. “Of course I do,” she said. “Who wouldn’t want to be known for who they are?” She took a deep breath, and when she looked at Myka again, the fondness was back in her eyes. “But you do, and that shall be enough.” 

Myka smiled at her, feeling just as fond. “And I’m glad that I do,” she said. “It’s one thing to like and admire someone’s works and views; but to get to know the person behind that, and to befriend them, is on another level entirely.”

“And I’m glad that you did,” Helena said. For a moment, Myka could see the spark of darkness in her eyes again, but then Helena turned and started to walk out of the pool, and the moment was lost.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the bed, with more oral, more fingering, and additional strap-on action. Oh, also handcuffs.

Helena, Myka learned, had no compunction whatsoever about walking around naked. “But you’ve _seen_ me now,” she said, as if that was explanation enough.

“Yeah,” Myka said, clutching the towel to her chest and rushing to close the curtains, “but anyone outside might see you too. You know, light in here, dark out there, curtains open, stuff like that?”

“Well, you’ve certainly saved my naked body from being ogled by ill-willed peeping toms,” Helena said and sank down on the bed with heart-stopping grace. “And here _I_ was prepared to be the savior rushing in.” She gave Myka a low-lidded smile. “Although I daresay I was able to make a contribution.”

Myka blushed. 

Helena’s smile deepened and she patted the sheets next to her. “Will you join me?”

Myka quickly complied, still holding the towel close. 

“Are you cold, darling?” Helena cast a meaningful gaze towards the terrycloth. 

“Wh- oh! No. Um.” Myka’s blush burned in her cheeks as she awkwardly fumbled the towel away from her body. Helena had looked so elegant sitting down, and here she was, Myka the dork, as if fencing lessons, ice skating and martial arts had never taught her how to move her own body. She dropped the towel off the side of the bed and quickly slid under the sheets. “Maybe a little,” she said to explain it. “A little cold.”

“Hm.” Helena looked musingly at her for a moment, then got up and walked towards the temperature controller near the door. “That will not do at all, now will it.” She tapped the display a few times. “That should do it.” Helena returned to the bed, still unconcerned, still graceful. “Now, let’s see what we can do in the meantime to… heat things up.”

Myka chuckled and rolled her eyes. “That line really only works because A, your accent and delivery makes everything sexy anyway and B, because it’s so different from how you usually phrase things.”

Helena shrugged as if ceding the point. “As long as it made you laugh,” she said lightly, slipping under the sheets. And in the same fluid motion, her hand found Myka’s midriff, gliding smoothly across Myka’s skin and coming to rest at her waist. Helena propped her head onto her other hand and smiled down at Myka. “Feeling less precarious now?”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Myka said – Helena wasn’t the only one who could call back to Tamalpais. “Will I slide off the bed? Probably not – but the way things are going tonight, I can’t rule it out, can I.”

Helena’s smile gained a slightly knowing, slightly impressed air. “Something to live up to,” she said, “Myka Bering’s expectations of me.”

“Story of your life,” Myka nodded, and then amended, “this part of it, anyway.” 

Helena gave a little sideways nod, ceding that point too. She then brought her hand up and ran it along Myka’s hairline. “I would ask a favor of you,” she said lightly, eyes following her fingertip.

A shiver ran across Myka’s skin at the caress. “Yeah?” 

“Could I free your hair? It is so glorious, and I hate to see it confined.”

Myka blinked in surprise. “Sure,” she said, “I just need to put it back up before going to sleep, otherwise it’ll be unmanageable tomorrow.” She started to reach up, but Helena shook her head. 

“Allow me.”

Myka hesitated, then let her hand sink back down. Her hair was pretty indomitable even now; at least if she herself hit any snags unwinding the hairband, she’d only have herself to blame. Somehow, though, she couldn’t envision Helena getting stuck in her hair, what with all that heart-stopping grace and all.

Helena leaned closer and upwards, reaching up with both her hands to tug the hairband out and allowing Myka a clear, close-up view of her neck and- and her _neck_. Myka didn’t know why exactly she held back from looking further down, or from leaning forward and pressing kisses on that pale, freckle-flecked skin, but that was precisely what she did: holding back. Instead, her eyes catalogued every inch of skin, every freckle she could see. She could feel Helena’s fingers working the hairband out, taking great care not to tug too hard or to pull inadvertently, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation. She heard Helena give a small, satisfied hum, and then felt her hair cascading down. 

“Glorious,” Helena repeated softly, then ran her fingers through it, cautious but confident. 

Myka had always thought of her own hair of middling at best and a mess at worst. To hear someone like Helena, who had the most extraordinarily beautiful mane of hair, sing such praises was… intoxicating. 

Helena’s fingers had arrived at the back of Myka’s head, and she used that position to lift Myka’s head and press a kiss onto her lips. “Glorious,” she whispered again, then kissed Myka once more, fingers splayed into curls and along jawline.

Intoxicating. 

Myka could feel Helena’s hunger, hear the rush of her breath, the shiver in her exhalations, and couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head in wonder that this… this beauty of a woman found her, Myka, so alluring. 

Helena pulled back slightly, eyebrows knitted in puzzlement. “What is it?” she asked.

“I just…” Myka began, trying helplessly to find the right words. “I wouldn’t have thought that you… that I… I mean, you know. I’m not… not the pretty one. And yet you-”

Helena pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her face was slack with surprise, and Myka stopped, startled. “No…” Helena began, shaking her head slowly. “No, you are not the pretty one, indeed not… yours, yours is the beauty of Athena, of Diana,” she said, reaching forward and gripping the sheet. As she pulled it off Myka in a slow, measured motion, her free hand caressed the length of Myka’s body. “The beauty of a body equally ready to protect or to make love, of a mind as brilliant as the stars, of a heart as caring as a warm, welcoming hearth. Your smile,” and here Helena looked up at Myka from her feet, “your smile brightens a room, and your soul is beyond compare. Truly, Myka, you are not the pretty one. Pretty is but pleasing symmetry; you, though – you are beautiful.”

Myka listened as if hypnotized, watched as if hypnotized as Helena made her way up her body again, pressing kisses as she went. She didn’t ask Helena if she truly meant that – she could see it in the dark brown eyes that never once looked away as they got closer. She had rarely seen such fervor, such ardency. 

She swallowed. Suddenly, her vision blurred, but before she could wrap her head around the fact that she was close to crying, Helena had reached her goal and was kissing her again, bringing the fervor, the ardency to bear on Myka’s lips until they tingled, pulsed, burned with desire. Her body was a delicious weight splayed across Myka, skin on skin in too many places to process adequately, and yet not enough – but before Myka could bring her arms in and around Helena’s shoulders to pull her closer, Helena pushed herself slightly up from her. 

“Any requests, darling?”

Myka looked up at her, momentarily lost for words – she wanted everything, all of the things, each and any, the whole freaking thesaurus of entireties, but asked to _name_ any of it, she was stumped. “You…” she began, then shook her head mutely. 

Helena delicately raised an eyebrow. “Dealer’s choice, then?” One corner of her mouth followed suit. “I’ll do my best to live up to your trust.” She raised herself a little further, which in turn mean that her pelvis pushed into Myka’s crotch – not forcefully, certainly not painfully, but wonderfully _present_. Then she began to rock ever so slightly, and _present_ became _pleasurable_ but remained _not enough_. Myka’s hips joined Helena’s slow rhythm, then, frustrated by that very slowness, she brought down her arms to grasp Helena’s hips. 

Helena stopped immediately, and Myka groaned. “I understand your frustration,” Helena said in return, “but bear with me, please. Let me set the pace; let me choose the method. If my choice isn’t to your liking, by all means let me know, but until and unless that is the case, please, darling: give yourself over.” Myka hesitated, and Helena gave her a small, one-sided smile. “I promise,” she went on, “I will not do anything you dislike, anything that makes you uncomfortable, anything that does not bring you pleasure. If you want to discontinue at any moment, give me a signal, any kind of signal, and I will stop immediately. I should like you to not have a care in the world during this, least of all feeling unsafe in any way.”

“Can we do traffic light colors?” Myka asked, the words rushing out before she had thought her way through them. “As signals?”

Helena raised her eyebrows in surprise, then her gaze became pensive and, shortly after, approving. “As in, if you say ‘green’, I’m free to continue; ‘yellow’, I should slow down; ‘red’, I stop?”

Myka nodded. “Check in with me, too,” she added. “Don’t wait until I say something. Just ask ‘color?’, and I’ll tell you, kind of thing?”

“Ah,” Helena nodded, “yes, I see. I shall, of course.” She lowered herself slightly, propping her head on one elbow. “Do you believe that might enable you to let go of your urge to steer what happens?”

Myka tried to focus on her question, instead of the way that Helena’s breasts felt pressed against hers. “I… am not sure,” she managed finally. “It’s… it’s not that I don’t get what you’re suggesting,” she added. “I know what you mean. And I gotta admit it sounds… inviting. To not have to… well, to not have to think, basically.” She gave Helena a wry grin. “Miles out of my usual comfort zone, obviously,” she added with a shrug and a roll of her eyes, “but… if at all, I can see it happening tonight. Like, with the day I was having, the idea is really, _really_ appealing.”

Helena’s smirk reappeared. Slowly, her head sank forwards, not aiming for Myka’s lips this time, but for her ear. “I know,” she crooned into it. 

If Myka had been standing up, her knees would have buckled at the sound. As it was, the sound, the delivery, even Helena’s scent so close to her, made her squirm. 

Helena gave a hum of pleasant surprise. “Let’s explore _that_ further, shall we?” she said, right next to Myka’s ear but not straight into it – her breath, instead of tickling its insides, caressed the outer shell of Myka’s ear.

Myka was about to ask what Helena was suggesting when she felt Helena’s tongue lave the same spot. Instead of words, she uttered a shuddering, breathy moan, feeling the sensation go straight to her center.

Again, Helena gave a hum. “I see.” 

Myka laughed weakly. “That’s… new,” she managed. 

“Oh?”

Myka gave a jerky little nod. “I don’t think anyone’s ever tried that on me before, but… jeez. That was _intense_.”

That brought Helena’s head up. She met Myka’s eyes with a concerned little crease between her eyebrows. “Color, darling?”

“Oh!” Myka shook her head with a smile. “Green,” she said quickly, “all green. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Helena nodded. “Good,” she said, and without further ado, dove down again. She traced her tongue across the same spot once more, and while Myka was able to control her exhalation a bit better this time, she couldn’t help but grind her thighs together. 

“Really intense,” Myka gasped. “Good, still green, but you might want to take it slow or I’ll ha-” the rest of her words was lost in exhalation again as Helena licked along the inner fold of her ear, for all the world as if she was eating Myka out, complete with a little flick at the helix’ apex. The movement send shudders through Myka that ran together between her legs, asking, _demanding_ friction, continuation, escalation. “God,” Myka moaned.

Helena did not stop, and Myka didn’t want her to, but she also did not give Myka’s center any attention whatsoever, even going so far as to move her hips up and away, depriving Myka of the opportunity – and it was embarrassing how much Myka _craved_ the opportunity – to _rut_ against her. Instead, her tongue explored Myka’s ear voraciously, diligently, implacably, until Myka’s breaths were coming in short, keening bursts and she was severely, extremely tempted to just sneak her own damn hands between her legs to find release. 

As if Helena felt it – and Myka wasn’t sure that maybe, just maybe, her arms had twitched with the strain of suppressing the urge – Helena pushed herself up slightly and brought first Myka’s left hand, then her right, up to a spot above Myka’s head. “Keep them there for me, will you, darling?”

Never in her wildest dreams would Myka have thought that a request like that would affect her like it did, but – it was only for tonight, only here, only with Helena. Only to help her deal with a day that had demanded too much of her. Myka accepted this as fact and stopped thinking about it further; a decision helped greatly by the fact that Helena had just inserted her leg between Myka’s thighs, and _now_ there was something against which friction could be had.

Helena, for her part, was now lavishing attention on Myka’s other ear. Between that and the pressure of Helena’s thigh, Myka was building up again embarrassingly quickly – her ears! Every single flick and caress of Helena’s tongue seemed to transmit itself directly to Myka’s center, driving her wild with arousal until the weight of Helena’s leg wasn’t enough anymore. Myka keened, yearning, longing – she _needed_ -

Helena’s thigh was withdrawn for a moment, and Myka was about to protest when – oh god, _thank god_ – she felt a hand slide into the gap left behind, felt fingers enter her, continuing the rhythm Helena’s thigh had set seamlessly enough not to be jarring. Then she felt Helena settle alongside her, half covering Myka’s body with her own, her weight a welcome addition to the sensations now coalescing in Myka’s brain. Helena’s mouth never left Myka’s ear, and now her whole body pushed into Myka, keeping the rhythm that her thigh had set and her fingers were following, moving Myka like the ocean moves sand, taking her higher, higher, higher with each push, each flick of her tongue. 

Myka lost herself in the sensations Helena was calling forth, letting the duality of ear vs. crotch wash over her just like waves on a beach, simply accepting the pleasure no matter where it originated from. Then Helena’s thumb landed deftly on her clit and at the same time, Helena started sucking on Myka’s lobe, and Myka’s orgasm crested and peaked and carried her away.

She was dimly aware that Helena’s fingers still kept up their rhythm, still kept stoking her fire. 

“Color?” she heard Helena ask.

“Green,” she gasped between pants, because heavens forbid that Helena stop anything that she was doing. Once, one time when pleasuring herself, Myka had found herself in this zone before, where orgasm didn’t mean she was done, where she could go on after the first crest, go on to greater heights, coming undone completely and utterly – back then, she hadn’t quite gotten there, though, because just like you couldn’t choke yourself, you couldn’t make yourself come undone, right? But here, now, tonight, with Helena? “Green, please, _please_ go on,” she said roughly. 

“As you wish,” she heard. “Give me a moment to change position, though, will you, darling?”

“Fine,” Myka nodded, barely registering the question’s meaning; whatever Helena needed, just please, please let her go on-

Helena’s weight disappeared from Myka’s side, as did her fingers from inside Myka, and Myka groaned a heartfelt complaint. “A second,” Helena whispered reassuringly, “just a second.”

And then Myka felt her again, felt Helena’s legs slide across hers, felt Helena’s hips spread her thighs apart, felt Helena’s fingers on her labia, felt a thick nub follow their motion, and knew what Helena had pulled away for – a dildo, vibrator, strapped on or held in hand Myka didn’t care, she wanted it to fill her. She could feel lube slickness, could feel her own wetness; then she felt Helena lower herself down on Myka’s chest, tips of hair brushing Myka’s nipples who stood to sudden, rigid attention, lodging a severe complaint of inattention.

“Color, darling?”

“Green,” Myka said immediately, grasping her own fingers in anticipation of-

The dildo, or whatever it was, was pulled away. 

Myka bit her lip so as not to roar with disappointment. Yes, she had just come, but she’d wanted to go on, not stop and rebuild.

“Patience, darling,” Helena murmured. “I promise it will be worth it.” Her tongue flicked into Myka’s ear at the same time that her thumb fluttered across her clit, and the shock or aftershock of it stole Myka’s response away. 

Then Helena began to breathe kisses on every available inch of Myka’s shoulders. Every now and then, she inserted a lick of tongue in between her kisses, and every now and then, she’d add a bit of bite. And slowly, slowly, her ministrations overruled Myka’s disappointment, especially as Helena moved her way down to Myka’s breasts. She gently bit into the soft flesh, then soothed the sting with a quick stroke of her tongue and a little puff of breath that made the hairs rise on Myka’s skin. In this fashion, she circled first one, then the other breast, steering clear of Myka’s nipples to Myka’s re-mounting frustration – and arousal. Myka knew, she _knew_ Helena would get there. And the way things were going, the wait would be worth it, she knew that too. Her hands, which had begun to sneak down, wanting to push Helena to where Myka wanted her, wound themselves into the sheets to stave off temptation. 

“Let’s see what we can do to help that,” Helena said with a quiet chuckle, tracing her fingers up Myka’s arms until they came to rest on Myka’s hands.

Myka shivered. There was only one thing she could envision helping here, and she had never done that before, but Helena was right; it _would_ help. She wouldn’t have to think about keeping her hands where they were, she wouldn’t have to make an effort, she could just have Helena tie her up and focus on the sensations Helena was bringing forth. “Okay,” she whispered. 

Helena hummed in delight. Her weight shifted on Myka’s side as she stretched to reach off the bed. Myka opened her eyes and realized she’d held them closed for a while now – focusing on what she was feeling much more than what she might be seeing. Now, she saw Helena prop herself up on one elbow and look down at Myka with a quizzical expression. 

“Rope,” Helena asked, “or padded cuffs? Or, I assume, my scarf – it would probably do the trick, too.”

Myka blinked. Then she laughed. “Holy shit, Helena – you planned for this to the extent of having _different means of restraint_ on you?”

Helena shrugged, in a display of pretend modesty. “Page out of _your_ book, darling; I wanted to be thoroughly prepared for this eventuality, even though I was only offering it as one solution. Had you not consented, none of this would have made it out of the suitcase.” Then she tilted her head. “Is that so bad? That I wanted you to lack for nothing, should you take me up on my offer?”

Myka shook her head. “No,” she laughed, “no, it’s not. Not the way things are going. Not one bit.”

That small, captivating, smug little smile on Helena’s lips was so, so attractive. “Thought so,” Helena said lightly. “Now, which shall it be?”

“Padded cuffs,” Myka said after a moment’s thought. 

“As you wish.”

“Just-” Myka added, and Helena immediately stopped in mid-motion, “only my wrists, okay? Not my ankles. I don’t… I don’t want to-” she broke off, figuring out what it actually was that she did and didn’t want. “This isn’t about me wanting to feel helpless,” she said finally. “I don’t. I just don’t want to have to think about not moving my hands. You know?”

Helena nodded. “I fully understand,” she said, and Myka could see the truth of that reflected in her eyes. “Is there anything else that would help? A blindfold, perhaps?”

Myka contemplated that one, too, then shook her head. “No, I want to be able to see things if I want to. I don’t like the idea of a blindfold in combination with my hands being tied up.” 

Helena nodded again. “Yes, I can see how that would play too much into the ‘helplessness’ aspect.” She smiled, leaned forwards, and pressed a kiss on Myka’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so open to all of this, so willing to go along.”

Myka huffed a laugh. “If anything, thank _you_ for not just suggesting this but bringing your entire arsenal,” she said, nodding her head to the side of the bed where, she presumed, Helena’s suitcase waited. 

Helena gave her another one of those devastating smiles, then bent down to said suitcase. Myka closed her eyes in anticipation. She didn’t even mind that by now, her arousal had receded – this was going to be good, she was pretty sure of that. Having one plan thwarted just to then be offered this? Was fine by her.

A few moments later, she could feel Helena’s weight and warmth return against her body, and then a hand took her wrist and moved it up and out towards the corner of the bed. “Is this a good position?” she heard Helena ask. 

Myka nodded, and added a “Yes,” in case Helena wasn’t looking at her head right now. 

She felt soft fabric encase her wrist and be cinched tight. Then the motion and the question were repeated for her other arm, and it, too, was restrained. Myka tugged a little, testing her range, and nodded again. She could still move a little, and lie down comfortably, and grasp the rope that attached the cuffs to whatever Helena had attached them to. 

“Let me know if it should ever become uncomfortable or too much, alright?” 

Myka nodded again, and added another “Yes”. 

“Excellent,” Helena said with satisfaction. She, too, ran a gauging had over the restraints, first one, then the other – which mean that her body moved across Myka’s, tickling and caressing Myka with the touch of hair, silky skin, and – surprisingly arousing – lubricated strap-on. It had to be a strap, Myka mused, otherwise why would she feel it when Helena slid her hips across Myka’s? It was chilly, it was slick, and it would soon, oh _soon_ , be inside of her. Her hips gave an involuntary twitch at the thought, and she heard Helena chuckle. 

“Soon,” Helena echoed Myka’s thought. “First, though, I believe I was lavishing attention on your… skin.” And with that, she set out again to kiss and caress Myka’s upper body, gently nipping her shoulder, deftly sucking on her nipple, pushing her tongue firmly into and along the inside of Myka’s clavicle – which made Myka buck and moan, surprising her just as much as discovering the erogenous properties of her ears had – pressing kisses down her sternum and flicking her tongue across her ribs, then returning to Myka’s nipples again until Myka’s head swam with the sensations called forth. 

Then Helena kissed her way downwards, stopping briefly to acknowledge Myka’s navel, then continuing down, sliding her body between Myka’s legs to spread them, putting her hands on Myka’s thighs to stay their motions. Myka found herself quivering. She wanted Helena to go down on her, yes, but she also wanted, _needed_ , something inside of her to rebuild the crest she’d been on earlier. 

Suddenly, something shifted in Myka’s mind. As if a curtain had been pulled up, she realized that Helena would do whatever she would do at precisely the point she, Helena, thought was the right time. Not sooner, not later; and so far, everything that Helena had done had been worth it. Yes, alright, this was their first time, and Myka knew that first times were usually rife with awkwardness and figuring stuff out, but Helena seemed incredibly adept at reading Myka’s signs – but, frankly, that was nothing new, was it. Helena knew Myka, Helena _got_ Myka, and Helena knew what to do with what she knew. That wasn’t only true on retrievals and in conversations, it was obviously also true in bed. 

Helena knew what she was doing. If Myka gave herself over to that, she’d be giving herself into capable hands. 

Myka could feel her body relax, letting go of a level of subconscious tension she hadn’t known had been present. 

Helena knew what she was doing. 

As her thigh muscles released their tension and her hips sank into the mattress, Myka realized that Helena had stopped her ministrations. She opened her eyes, lifted her head, and looked down. 

Helena’s forearms were resting on Myka’s thighs, her hands nestled one atop the other on Myka’s mons, her chin propped on top of that. There was an expression of profound awe on Helena’s face, and Myka wondered why. 

“I felt that,” Helena said in a low voice, sliding out one hand and running a finger lightly over Myka’s thigh and then up to her abdomen. “I felt you let go.” She slowly closed her eyes, slowly took in a breath, slowly opened her eyes again. They were full of emotion. “Thank you.” It was barely more than a whisper, barely more than lips mouthing the words. 

Myka, who had no idea how to respond to that, simply nodded. She held Helena’s gaze for a moment longer, then shut her eyes and let her head sink down again. 

Another moment later, she felt Helena shift her weight, heard the sound of fabric sliding across fabric, felt something soft against her outer thigh – a pillow, she realized. Definitely a good idea, she thought, and raised her butt willingly so that Helena could position it. She wiggled around on it to make sure it was in the right spot, then stilled again to signal to Helena that she was, again, ready for whatever Helena would think of next. 

She felt Helena slide back in between her legs, felt the ghost of a kiss being pressed to her hip bone, then Helena stilled for a moment. And then Myka felt Helena’s slender, clever fingers opening her labia slowly, gently, almost reverentially – and before she could wonder how Helena would proceed, what technique she might be contemplating, Helena’s tongue set to work, and Myka gave herself over to the sensations. 

She felt long, slow, almost pushing strokes. She felt quick darts into her entrance, across her clit, between the folds of her labia. She felt suction, the edge of teeth, broad sweeps, tight licks; she felt Helena’s tongue enter her and groaned, reminded of her desire to be filled but enjoying this sensation for what it was as long as it lasted; she felt fingers enter her, fluttering, flickering, darting across her insides in barely perceptible motions; above all, she felt herself build and mount, being stoked so expertly, so deftly, so skillfully-

She felt Helena’s tongue and lips disappear, and keened her disapproval; then she felt them on her abdomen, wet and slick, planting sloppy kisses as Helena moved upwards. She felt Helena’s hips slide up her thighs, felt the slick head of Helena’s lubed-up strap-on find her entrance, felt Helena slow down and hesitate, and brought her hips up to meet it. 

It slid in easily, and like everything else tonight, it was perfect – Myka exhaled a shuddering breath as it filled her, as she felt Helena’s hips and mons connect with hers and Helena’s upper body rest on her chest while they both savored the moment. Then Helena raised herself slightly, just slightly, and began moving her hips. It was just a minuscule back-and-forth; barely an inch or two, and yet Myka shuddered again as she realized that the strap-on had an outer attachment of some kind, that the in-and-out rubbed against her clit the same way it moved against her insides. 

“Color?” she heard, and “Green,” she replied because god, this was heavenly and yes, she was all good. 

Helena’s reaction was to pull out almost entirely, which caused the attachment to lose contact with Myka’s clit, and where, usually, such a change-up, such a _loss_ , would have caused Myka to groan and buck and try to regain it somehow, tonight, right here and now, Myka simply accepted it, waiting and seeing what Helena would do next, secure in the knowledge that it would be good. 

Helena started teasing her with the toy, moving her hips in small circles so that the dildo’s head roamed across Myka’s entrance, pulsing slightly into her then out again until Myka contemplated bringing up her hips again – and at that exact point, as if Helena had known, she slid in again in one long, unhurried motion until she bottomed out, filling and stretching Myka so deliciously that Myka couldn’t help but moan out loud. 

“I love to hear you,” Helena said, next to Myka’s ear. Even just the sound of her voice, so close, brought back memories of her earlier ministrations, and Myka moaned again, and heard Helena’s breath stutter in response. The realization rushed through Myka like wildfire: with all the reactions Helena was calling forth from Myka, what Myka did affected Helena too. 

“Please,” she said, and on cue, Helena resumed her movements, again pulling out almost entirely, again circling barely within Myka’s entrance for a moment, again, sliding back in in a slow, powerful motion. As she did so, Myka became aware once more of the outer attachment rubbing across her clit, back and forth and just as firm, not quite like a tongue, not quite like a finger, but the dual sensation inside and out was divine, pure and simple. Helena’s rhythm was slow but unfailing, and it built Myka’s arousal in the same way – like the largest of waves building slowly, slowly, before it would sweep everything away. 

Myka knew, from how this build-up felt, that the orgasm at its end would be an intense one, the kind that would make her yell out and thrash her limbs, the kind that would make her see stars, make her boneless; the kind that could go on and on if the circumstances were just right – and when if not tonight was that the case? 

“More,” she whispered shakily, “just a bit. Just a bit, okay?”

She felt more than heard Helena’s hum in her ear. “I know just the thing,” Helena then murmured. When she withdrew that time, she didn’t linger on Myka’s entrance, but pushed right back in. The rhythm became smoother, no longer three beats out-tease-in, but only two, out and in in long even strokes. 

“Yes,” Myka hissed. She adjusted her own motions to the new rhythm until she and Helena were moving in unison. 

Helena had one elbow propped on the bed above Myka’s shoulder now, and her hair was falling across Myka’s face like a curtain, shutting out the world and leaving Myka and her in a little space of their own, a space of gasps and shuddering breaths, of the small kisses Helena would sometimes leave on Myka’s shoulder, of the small sounds Myka would make every time Helena entered her. 

Those sounds were becoming more urgent as Myka’s arousal built. “When I come,” she gasped in the rhythm of Helena’s strokes, “don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Okay?”

“Yes,” Helena replied, hissing the word in much the same way Myka had earlier. “Yes,” she repeated, as if to reassure Myka that she had indeed understood.

“Not… long… now,” Myka said, feeling the wave rise to its tipping point. Almost, almost, almost, her mind pulsed as Helena pushed into her; yes, yes, yes, she thought; “Yes, yes, yes,” she said out loud, and then, with a deep, shuddering groan, she started to come. 

She could feel her insides clench around the toy, could feel her clit throb against the attachment, could feel Helena keep up the steady pace, and with every push, every pull, her orgasm flared, brightened, until she was crying out with it, straining against the handcuffs with her hands wrapped around the rope, cresting towards a higher climax even than this-

The toy began to pulse a slow vibration, and Myka yelled out in sheer bliss. On some level, she knew that her legs were thrashing out now, that her whole body was shaking in release, flailing loosely except for her arms which still clung to the ropes and anchored her; on some level, she was a bit concerned that she might hit Helena in some way, but such was the nature of her orgasm, tonight, right there and then, that she knew she didn’t need to worry, she just needed to let the sensations course through her-

“More,” she gasped, and “green, green, green,” she sang, and “more, please,” she begged, and Helena responded, speeding up her strokes and the vibrations, pounding into her until Myka cried out again, a hoarse, unfettered shout of ecstasy, Helena’s breath on her ear, wetness- Helena’s tongue _in_ her ear, as if on her clit right through the vibrations, in out in out pushing same as the toy-

Myka lost cohesion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialling it up to 11 in this one; doggy-style, larger toy, anal/double penetration, and Helena helping Myka realize stuff about herself.

When sense returned to her sensations, she was wrapped around Helena legs and arms at once, keening and shuddering as aftershocks coursed through her. Helena must have detached the ropes somehow; the cuffs were still around Myka’s wrists, but those wrists were firmly crossed behind Helena’s back, just as Myka’s ankles were firmly crossed behind Helena’s butt, holding on for dear life – and being held in return. Helena’s arms were around Myka in a tight, reassuring embrace, and she was whispering calming invocations to Myka, telling her over and over again that it was okay, that she was okay, that Helena had her.

The toy, no longer vibrating, was lodged inside Myka still, and as soon as she noticed its existence, she both wanted it out and dreaded the moment of its removal. Best to get it over with, though, she reasoned, and steeled herself. The sensation of it gliding across her over-stimulated clit as she pulled away and it slid out made her gasp, and Helena’s arms tightened. 

“Color, darling?” she heard the other woman ask. 

Myka gave a breathy laugh. “Yellow,” she said, “but, you know… a greenish yellow. Definitely greenish.” She buried her nose in Helena’s hair and tightened her embrace just like Helena had. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I really needed this.”

“I know,” Helena murmured back. “Chartreuse?” she then suggested, and Myka chuckled. 

“Chartreuse,” she confirmed.

“So, after a suitable interval, you would be ready to go again?”

The undisguised hope in her voice made Myka laugh out loud. “Fuck, Helena,” she gasped. 

“I believe we did,” Helena said, her tones very dignified now. “I’m open to more of it if you are.”

“I can’t even think of anything involving my clit or my vagina right now,” Myka said, shaking her head and slowly detaching her arms and legs. 

Helena, too, loosened her embrace. “Those aren’t the only erogenous zones a body offers, though,” she said with a coy little glance from beneath lowered lashes. She slid her body off of Myka’s and propped her head on her elbow.

“Oh!” Myka blushed as she realized what Helena was alluding to, but her smile stayed on – she still felt much too satisfied to even consider frowning. “I haven’t really ever done that before – you do mean anal play, right?”

Helena’s smirk deepened. “Indeed I do,” she said. “I understand it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, of course, and if you don’t see any appeal in it, fair enough. I just wanted to… what’s the phrase? Put it out there?” She tilted her head. “Although in this case, ‘put it _in_ there’ might be more apt, I suppose.”

Myka groaned and covered her face with her arm. “Do not,” she said firmly. “That was awful.” And still she couldn’t help but smile. Oxytocin was one hell of a drug, she thought, then began to work the cuff loose. 

“Here, let me help,” Helena offered. Between the two of them, Myka was cuffless in under a minute. “Do your wrists hurt at all?” Helena asked. “You were pulling and straining quite a bit.”

Myka rubbed her left wrist, testing the area for pain or other signs of bruising. “No,” she concluded, “all fine. The padding helped a lot. And the width.” The cuffs were easily two and a half inches wide, she thought, maybe three, and sturdy enough for the D ring not to pull them tight as force was applied on it. 

“Only the best quality,” Helena said, sounding both amused and pleased. 

“Hadn’t expected anything else from you,” Myka agreed. “So what else did you bring to play with?” She was half tempted to sit up and check out Helena’s suitcase, but her limbs still felt pleasantly boneless. Definitely not tired anymore, though. Fired up and ready to go for round… three? Four? How would you count these, anyway?

“Would you truly like to know,” Helena asked back, interrupting Myka’s thoughts, “or would you like for it to stay a surprise?”

Myka’s smile widened as she contemplated it. “Surprise me,” she said. “Just pull something out and dangle it in front of me. Let me get all excited about it while I, you know…” she gestured towards her crotch, “recuperate.”

Helena nodded slowly. She sat up, contemplating Myka as if Myka was a work of art stretched out in front of her, fingers on her mouth and eyes narrowed in intense cogitation. Myka had no idea if this was for real or just a front designed to entertain her, but she enjoyed it either way. Then Helena nodded again, once, decisively, and bent over the side of the bed. 

“This,” she said, coming up again, “could be a good starter, I believe.” She held aloft a slender, ridged toy about the size of Myka’s forefinger, maybe a bit longer, with a flared base. 

“Starter? You have more?” Myka asked incredulously. Helena’s suitcase hadn’t been all _that_ large, had it?

Helena raised her eyebrows. “Indeed I do.”

Myka almost giggled. “I always wanted to try out different toys,” she said. “I feel a little like a kid – well, adult – with the key to the toy shop.” She bit her lip for a moment. “Do you have a… a bigger… I mean, for…” _what a time to suddenly become tongue-tied_ , she chided herself, but still couldn’t bring herself to say the words. 

“A bigger dildo for vaginal penetration?” Helena finished the question. When Myka nodded, so did she. “A few, yes,” she said, and Myka’s heart-rate jumped. 

_A few_. “God,” she exhaled shakily. Her crotch pulsed with renewed arousal, but it also reminded her that she had just been pounded – so she added, “For later, I mean.”

“Of course,” Helena agreed easily. “For now, I have a different suggestion.”

“Go ahead,” Myka said. Her voice wasn’t quite steady yet, and the look she received from Helena – a mix of amusement and raw desire – made her pulse speed up.

“If you want to try this one out,” Helena said, lifting the anal toy slightly, “I suggest the a tergo position.” Myka didn’t recognize the term, and apparently her face amply said so, because Helena went on, “From behind? The receiver on all fours, the giver behind them?”

“Oh!” Myka realized, “doggy style.”

Helena pulled a face. “I am not,” she said primly, “in favor of that term.”

Myka laughed out loud. “Snob,” she said fondly. “I gotta tell you, though,” she added, growing more serious, “that I’m not gonna be able to hold myself up long.”

Helena nodded her understanding. “More pillows,” she suggested with a speed that told Myka she’d thought about that problem and its possible solutions already. “That way you can simply lie down.”

Myka felt arousal tug heavily at her insides. “Yes.” She got up on all fours and grabbed the closest pillows in reach, but Helena’s hand on her arm stopped her. 

“These will be too soft,” Helena said, “I’ll go and get better ones.” She stood up and, strap proudly jutting from her pelvis, went to the living room. A moment later, she returned with two of the sofa’s back cushions, as well as a sheet. “Give me a little space here, darling,” she said, and when Myka scooted to the side of the bed, expertly constructed a wedge by folding the cushions and wrapping them tightly in the sheet. “Give it a try?” she told Myka when she was done. 

Myka did, and then grinned – there was very little give in the wedge thus constructed; she could easily and comfortably lie on it. She did feel a little exposed with her butt in the air like that, but the only person she was exposed to was Helena, and Helena had not only seen all of this, she had been up close and personal with all of this – except Myka’s anus, and that was kind of the point of all of this. 

There was one pillow left over, though, so Myka asked, “What’s that one for?”

“My neck and head, darling, to prop me up when I’m underneath you.” Helena exhaled a soft laugh. “I would very much rather not tire and disappoint you halfway through.”

Myka swallowed at the thought. Then, when she felt Helena fold the pillow and position her own little wedge behind her, she realized she couldn’t just think about it; she could _anticipate_ it. It made her shiver with excitement. 

“Cold, darling?” Helena asked solicitously. “Or nervous?”

“Nervous,” Myka said, “but just a little.” Definitely not cold anymore; the air in the bedroom, by now, was pleasantly warm to be naked in. 

“I won’t start directly with anal play,” Helena said, placing a hand on Myka’s thigh and rubbing little circles. “I am very much looking forward to a little oral pleasure, as a matter of fact; hence the pillow.” She patted the pillow she’d wedged underneath herself. “Foreplay, if you will,” she went on. “From then, we shall see how things proceed – I will check in with you at all times, of course, and if anything feels at all off at any moment, by all means let me know. Green yellow red can still apply.”

“Okay,” Myka said, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

“What’s your current color?”

“Green,” Myka said firmly.

Without further words, Helena moved her hand to Myka’s hip and leaned up. Myka could feel her warm breath on her thighs, could feel her other hand spread her labia, could feel her tongue land on Myka’s clit, and gave herself over to the sensations. 

The angle was different, and so was Helena’s technique; teasing her clit with only the tip of her tongue, then swirling slower and deeper around Myka’s entrance, darting inside at times. It felt exquisite, at the same time soothing and arousing, and Helena seemed to sense it, for she began focusing her actions on Myka’s entrance exclusively. 

It left Myka’s clit sad and bereft, though, and Myka was just about to take matters into her own hand when she felt one of Helena’s slender fingers connect. “Yes,” she groaned, pressing her head against the mattress. 

With the added stimulation on her clit, Myka began to yearn for more than just Helena’s tongue inside her. She pushed her pelvis down whenever Helena slid in, trying to get a maximum of sensation out of it, but it wasn’t enough. Yet the thought of a dildo – not even one of the larger ones, just the one that Helena had used before – didn’t seem right yet, either. “Your fingers,” Myka said. “Please, I need-”

“Say no more,” Helena said, pulling back. A moment later, Myka felt Helena shift her weight. Helena knelt to the side, one of Myka’s legs between her knees, her strap-on a long bulge pressing into Myka’s thigh, promising more fulfillment later. One of Helena’s hands reached around the front, resuming her attention on Myka’s clit, and then Helena’s fingers finally filled her. Helena’s thumb landed firmly on Myka’s perineum – Helena’s hand was palm-up, Myka realized, and her fingers were moving inside her differently because of it. They stroked the far side of her walls, her knuckles grazing Myka’s g-spot whenever she crooked them. Together with how her thumb was pressing down, it created a new sensation – it felt so, so good. 

Myka thought she could already envision how it might feel to have a finger not only press down just in front of her anus, but actually enter her. How it might feel when the ‘come hither’ motion Helena’s fingers made was mirrored from the other side, so to speak. Therefore, when Helena withdrew both hands and changed position again, she didn’t protest. 

“For this next step,” Helena announced, “lubrication is paramount, as is protection.”

Myka could hear a plastic bag being rustled, then the little snap of a condom or glove or similar being put in place. Then she heard a bottle being opened, and Helena added, “This might be a bit cool on your skin now.”

She felt a trickle of liquid being poured onto the crack of her butt, from where it flowed downwards, then she felt Helena’s fingers – gloved now – spread it gently around. The very tip of a finger poked her anus and she breathed in.

Helena’s movements stopped. “Color, darling?”

“Oh, green,” Myka said immediately. “I can’t wait.”

“Excellent,” Helena breathed, and put her fingertip against Myka’s sphincter. “Ready whenever you are.”

“Do it.”

“Exhale,” Helena said, “and push a little.”

Myka did as told, and the tip of Helena’s finger slid in. At the same time, Helena slid two fingers of her other hand into Myka’s vagina. 

Myka tried to parse these two sensations – one increasingly familiar, the other so very new. “Oh,” she sighed, and then, without being prompted, said, “still green. Just gimme a moment to… to experience this.”

“Of course, darling,” Helena said. 

After a breath or two, Myka could feel the two fingers inside her vagina start to move in small, fluttering motions. It was strangely soothing. Then the tip of Helena’s other finger also twitched, very very slightly, and Myka couldn’t help but moan. 

It felt good. 

It felt so, _so_ good. 

Helena repeated the motion, and Myka rocked into her hands; she wanted more of this, all of this, wanted what she’d envisioned earlier, wanted to feel Helena’s hands respond to each other through her walls, wanted to be filled by that double penetration Helena had spoken of.

“Soon,” she heard Helena murmur. “Let’s take this slow, shall we?”

Myka found herself agreeing when, bit by bit, Helena pushed her sole finger further in. Even with lube slicking the motion, even with this being just the smallest of invasions, she felt strangely full. It felt odd, new, weird, but oh so amazing. When the finger was fully in, Helena stilled for a moment. 

“Green,” Myka said immediately, wanting to let Helena know she was absolutely, eminently, wonderfully fine with what was happening. 

“Good to hear,” Helena replied, and Myka could hear the smile in her voice. “I wanted to give you a little break before I started moving.”

“Thanks,” Myka said, and wondered how she could let Helena know that she was ready, oh so ready, for movement.

She didn’t have to. “Break is over,” Helena said, and crooked the fingers of both hands towards each other. 

Myka let out an explosive breath and rocked into the motion again. “Yes,” she exclaimed, her voice as low as she’d never heard it, “god, yes.”

Helena repeated the motion, slowly, gently, tenderly, and settled into an easy rhythm that Myka eagerly followed. Then, as Myka got used to the sensations, Helena started to push in and out – just a little, just an inch, but Myka shuddered as Helena’s knuckle slid past her sphincter. “Yes,” she said again, and was glad that her thighs didn’t have to hold her up – they would for sure have buckled by now. 

Helena kept this rhythm for a while, and Myka enjoyed it, but there came a point where she realized she wouldn’t orgasm from it alone, as pleasurable as it was. She cast around for what was missing – and then realized that her clit was, once more, going without attention. Before she could say something, though, Helena spoke up. 

“Do you feel ready for the next part?” she asked, slowing, then stopping her motion but leaving her fingers where they were. 

“What would that be?” Myka asked, immediately intrigued. 

With a little flick of her hip, Helena made the strap-on slap slightly into Myka’s thigh. “If I use this, I’ll gain one hand to use… elsewhere.”

“That,” Myka said at once, “is a really good idea.” Then she took a deep breath and added, “Also, um… that toy you had? And the… um, other one you mentioned? The, uh, bigger one?”

Behind her, Helena chuckled. She withdrew her fingers, two quite fast, one nice and slow – Myka still shuddered at every knuckle – and leaned across Myka to retrieve the slender toy. “Give me a moment to set everything up, darling.”

“Sure,” Myka said, trying not to squirm at the prospect, “um, take your time.”

Helena chuckled again. Myka heard rustling, another instance of a condom snapping and the lube bottle being deployed, and then skin on skin contact at her thighs again. Something nudged her entrance, and she exhaled in surprise – it did feel larger already, even just the head. It also felt slick with lube, and that helped her relax. 

“Ready?” Helena asked. 

“Yes,” Myka said immediately. “Nice and slow, please.”

“Of course, darling.”

Myka felt Helena lean forward, felt a hand on her butt cheeks spreading them apart, felt fingers guide the bigger dildo to her entrance. She softly let out her breath, and equally gently, Helena started pushing in. 

It was delicious. 

It was thicker than the other dildo had been, considerably so. And where that one had been mostly smooth, this one had horizontal ridges that slid in one by one, expanding and narrowing in turn.

Helena didn’t waver, didn’t slow down, simply pushed forwards slowly but steadily. Face down, ass in the air, Myka felt more at Helena’s mercy than she had been with her hands cuffed to the headboard – and it felt… it felt _good_. 

Because she trusted Helena. She knew that whatever Helena did, it was to make Myka feel good; whatever Myka wanted and didn’t want, Helena would do or not do. If Myka had any misgivings, she had her traffic light colors, and Helena had been nothing but solicitous about them, about _her_ , all night. The thought of Helena having her way with her, of subjecting Myka to her whims, was… was easy to think, knowing that what Helena wanted most was for Myka to feel good; no, not just good: amazing. 

Myka _wanted_ to give herself over. 

Myka wanted to not think, not decide, not set the pace. She wanted to let Helena, who had brought her to so many orgasms so masterfully, take control. 

She had no idea how to express this.

She only realized that she had stopped moving when she realized that Helena had stilled, too. 

“Color, darling?” Helena asked. 

“Green,” Myka said automatically, almost distractedly. “Helena, I… you… could you-” she fell silent, feeling strangely tongue-tied yet again.

“Choose the method and set the pace?” Helena completed the question when Myka didn’t go on.

Myka nodded gratefully. 

“Do you want me to?”

Myka inhaled, held her breath for a moment, then let it go. “Yes.”

“Then I shall.”

For a moment, Helena was still. Then her hips pushed forwards again, and Myka realized that the toy still had a way to go before being fully inserted. She exhaled a shuddering breath, and pushed back against Helena’s movement. 

Helena stopped. “Let me, darling,” she said gently but firmly. “This is part of that.”

Myka groaned, but complied, slackening her hips. 

“Thank you,” Helena said. 

Myka felt her lean further forwards – the angle of the toy inside her shifted deliciously, stretching her in yet another way – then she felt Helena’s fingers on her clit and moaned out loud. 

Helena’s fingers danced on the pulsing little nub, flicking lightly, and a moment later Myka realized that Helena’s hips were mirroring those little flicks, twitching the toy inside her back and forth the most minute amount. She moaned again – and resisted the urge to push backwards. She knew that if the toy inched forwards just a little, just a little, it would hit her just right, but Helena was setting the pace and she’d given herself over. 

“Thank you,” Helena whispered above her, and with one final slow push of her hips, buried the toy to the hilt. Her fingers pushed down hard on either side of Myka’s clit, and it started to pulse with the beat of Myka’s pounding arousal. Then Helena flicked a third finger over it and Myka released a shuddering, loud moan. 

She wanted nothing more than for Helena to repeat that, but Helena let go of Myka’s clit, and started withdrawing the toy. 

God, it was so big. Pulling out it seemed, illogically, to grow in size – or maybe the emptiness Myka felt just drove home how full she’d been only moments before. Further and further Helena pulled back, gliding easily on lube and Myka’s own arousal, until the tip was just inside Myka’s entrance. Then, Helena started to rock her hips, pushing only the first two inches in and out in a fast rhythm that drove Myka to distraction. She wanted, needed to be filled, to be well and truly pounded with that massive of a dildo, and she wanted her clit to be touched, and she wanted to come all over that log of a toy, shake herself against it until it split her in two.

“Soon,” Helena crooned, with a reassuring grip on Myka’s hips, and Myka almost sobbed. 

Helena kept up her teasing little pushes until Myka felt she might scream from frustration, then she stilled all movement. Myka did groan at that, and knew it sounded pitiful. Helena’s hands tightened around Myka’s hips, holding her in place. Then, slowly, agonizingly slowly, Helena pushed forwards again. 

Halfway through, Myka felt more lube trickling down her crack, felt something touch her anus, and gasped – how could she have had forgotten?

“Color?”

“Green,” Myka said immediately, “green, I’m fine, please, oh-”

“Exhale,” Helena instructed her, “and push.”

Myka did as she was told – the idea in itself made her shiver – and felt the tip of the toy slide in. It was thicker than Helena’s finger had been, but not by much, and the ridges – oh, the ridges. Myka realized now that they mirrored those of the dildo being pushed into her vagina, and the parallel of it made her want it even more – she knew how good the ridges of the large toy felt; she knew how good the ridges of Helena’s knuckles had felt; she wanted this toy inside of her, both of them inside of her, she wanted to be fucked with them, and she knew that was exactly what was going to happen. 

Because Helena hadn’t stopped. She was pushing those two toys inside Myka, and she would not stop until they were buried to the hilt. 

Myka let go. Let go of anticipation, of wondering what Helena might do next, of the tension that had built up in her abdomen and jaw – she even released her fingers from the sheets that they had wound themselves into. 

“Thank you,” Helena said yet again, almost reverentially. 

Myka could feel the two toys all the way inside her now, could feel Helena’s thighs on her butt cheeks. She felt so full, so wonderfully filled and stretched, and her ass – her ass felt that way too but even more so, even though that toy was considerably smaller. Helena shifted her weight, and Myka had no choice but move with her, attached as she was; and the motion made both toys press into her in different, new ways. Then she realized that she could feel the ridges of one toy rubbing against the ridges of the other toy, right through her walls. She moaned, bending with Helena’s motion as much as she could; then Helena was righting herself again, and her hands sneaked around Myka’s hips, tying something around first one thigh, then the other. And as Helena tightened the straps, Myka realized that that something would come to rest right at her apex. 

“Remote controlled,” Helena crooned, and the something on Myka’s clit started to buzz. It didn’t sit quite _on_ her clit, though, but a little above it – which, in a way, was good, because otherwise Myka might have come then and there. Helena tightened the last strap, locking it into place. “Color?” she asked again.

“Green,” Myka replied immediately, trying very, very hard not to grind into the small vibrating plaque to make it touch her clit after all, “green, green, please go on, please, god,” and then she stopped herself because she was honest-to-god begging, wasn’t she?

In reply, Helena grasped Myka’s hips again and started to slowly pull the toys out once more. Every ridge that left Myka’s body seemed to almost push her clit against the vibrator now, and Myka’s hands found the sheets again and held on for dear life. This time, Helena didn’t withdraw fully; when only the tip of the anal toy remained inside, she pushed forwards again. 

Her motion was, Myka had no other word for it, inexorable – between her hips and her hands holding Myka in place, Myka had no way of escape, no means of speeding up or slowing down the process. Apart from her color words, of course, but she’d rather bite her tongue off right now than say anything other than green when asked. 

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Helena filled Myka again, withdrew again, filled her again. And all the time, the vibrator buzzed away happily, marking every slickened ridge that went in or out with a closer contact, a stronger buzz. The vibrations were still not quite in the right spot, but somehow, they reached it anyway, making Myka’s whole crotch hum until her clit felt it, too.

Myka felt like she might fall apart with the sensations; like she was at the same time flying unattached to anything and yet wonderfully, marvelously grounded by the toys pushing into her, by Helena’s hands on her hips and Helena’s thighs against her butt. 

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Helena began to pick up the pace – but only on the instroke. The difference was exquisite, the rush of the in and the slow, delicious drag of the out. Myka felt it thrum through her like the vibration of a large, powerful machine just out of sight, a steam engine pistoning into her, bound only to its own revolutions, not to what Myka might or might not want. 

She moaned out loud with every thrust, and did not care one bit about how _wanton_ she sounded.

Helena was building up speed slowly and inexorably; the steam engine was accelerating, taking Myka with it wherever it wanted. At the same pace, Myka could feel her arousal mount; she was helpless, utterly unable to influence what Helena was doing with her, and that helplessness was unraveling her more thoroughly than she would ever have thought. Helena was holding Myka steady with her hands on Myka’s hips and her thighs behind Myka’s butt, and more – she was holding Myka steady with her presence, with the fact that she was doing everything she was doing so very, very _right_.

The sensations she evoked in Myka built off of each other, twirled around each other, magnified each other; they drowned out all other feelings – the softness of the sheets in Myka’s hands: forgotten. The pressure of creases of fabric against her belly where it pressed against the wedge Helena had built: forgotten. 

Myka’s thoughts, her sensations, her whole being seemed focused on the area between her thighs, on Helena’s steady, relentless in and out; on the way the smaller toy rubbed past her sphincter and stretched and filled her anus that had never felt a finger before, much less a toy like this; on the way that the larger toy seemed to touch everything at once when it was thrust inside her; on the way that she could feel the motion of one toy rubbing against not just her walls but against the other toy too; on the way the vibrator was hanging just above her clit, not really touching but transmitting its vibrations through her flesh to where she needed them-

She was building to an orgasm even more all-encompassing than the one before, she knew. If Helena kept doing things so utterly well, kept hitting every single beat so incredibly _right_ , Myka would come completely undone. She wasn’t even holding herself up, lying limply on her wedge instead, being fucked more thoroughly than she ever had, and it felt so good to be so helpless, so fully and utterly at Helena’s mercy, to simply lie there and take it, passive, surrendered, filled to the brim, teetering on the edge that Helena had taken her to so deftly. 

Myka was so close, so close, so almost incoherently close, and then Helena slanted her hips upwards in a move that arched Myka’s back – she couldn’t not, the toys were inexorable and she was speared onto them – and reached around her and pushed the vibrator onto Myka’s clit, and Myka yelled out as she came unraveled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftercare, and more realizations and revelations.

This time when Myka’s thought regained some form of cohesion, she wasn’t wrapped around Helena; Helena was stretched out alongside her, pressing into Myka’s body, caressing idle designs onto her skin. Myka felt her rather than saw; the lights were out. The only illumination was what little moonlight fell through a gap in the curtains. It was a sudden, eerie kind of change, and with a shudder, Myka reached for Helena, pulling her even closer. Helena shifted a little to adjust, then continued to draw her little doodles. 

“Color, darling?” A smile rode on the words; Myka could hear it. 

“Green,” Myka sighed. As she’d moved just now, she’d realized that no toy remained inside of her; the wedge was gone from the bed, too. “How-” she began, and Helena chuckled. 

“You were quite out of it for a while,” she said, “so I took the liberty of cleaning up a bit.”

“A bit?” Myka wondered. She wasn’t even feeling sticky. “You… did you wash me? Just how out of it was I?” Her hand came up to her hair and found two neat braids, one on each side of her head, and she blinked in stunned surprise.

“Asleep, I think,” Helena said lightly, still running her fingers across Myka’s skin. “Or possibly passed out at first and slipping into sleep seamlessly. I made sure your vital signs were alright, then I took advantage of the moment. Otherwise it tends to be awkward, does it not?”

“No kidding,” Myka murmured, trying to integrate what she’d just heard into her memory of how the night had gone. That she’d passed out, okay, she could believe that; the orgasm had been fucking _intense_. But that she’d slept deeply enough for Helena to… to manhandle her? That was… unheard of. “What time is it?”

“Shortly before dawn, to judge by the light,” Helena replied. “Half past six, perhaps?”

This had Myka wide awake. “What?!” Sleeping past five-thirty was even more unprecedented. Then again, it’d been a while since she’d had sex this amazing.

“Still green, darling?” Helena sounded worried. 

Myka looked at her and shook her head, blinking to adjust her thoughts yet again. “Yeah. Yeah,” she said absentmindedly, “I just… I’m just surprised. Green, with maybe a little yellow,” she added then, since Helena’s head was still tilted in question, “but mostly green. Lime, maybe?” 

Helena hummed. “Acceptable,” she said, putting her hand flat on Myka’s chest and her chin on top of it. 

A moment stretched out between them in the dark. And as Myka reflected on all that had happened in this room, in this little hotel cabin, she came to a realization.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for uttering it. “You used an artifact, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question – she’d pushed away the thought before, because holy crap had Helena made her feel incredible, but such a thing didn’t just happen, not on the very first time, no matter how proficient the participants. 

Helena, too, took in a breath, then slowly exhaled. “Yes.”

“What was it?” Myka wasn’t angry – she couldn’t be. Because Helena _had_ made her feel incredible, and because Myka had felt like herself throughout. 

“The ankle chain,” Helena said, and Myka nodded immediately. 

“I thought that that was not what you usually wear.”

“It belonged to Anandamayi, a contributor to the Kama Sutra,” Helena explained. “It allows the wearer to know and do exactly what the other person wants or needs to experience pleasure.”

Myka frowned sharply. “So you could read my mind?” She didn’t like that idea, not one little bit.

“Not at all.” Helena shook her head emphatically. “It was more that when you wanted something, or yearned for something, I would simply feel the urge to do that. It acted on me, not on you.”

“I guess,” Myka muttered. Then she remembered her artifact facts and asked, “What are its downsides?” 

Helena sighed, sitting up. Part of Myka was glad – it was difficult to be angry, skin on skin. Another part of Myka, though, missed the contact already. “It’s a bargain of sorts,” Helena said hesitantly. “A tit-for-tat. I’m allowed to know _that_ of you, and in turn I will…” she fell silent, lowering her eyes. After another long, slow breath, she sighed, “I’ll have to divulge something just as intimate. Allow you access to me in equal kind. Not necessarily of a sexual nature,” she added, “just… intimate.”

Myka’s jaw went slack. “But…” she shook her head. “Helena, I don’t want-”

“It’s not about what you want,” Helena interrupted almost forcefully. “Please, don’t make this…” Again, she fell silent. In the dim light, Myka couldn’t make out her face at all, but the motion of Helena’s jaw, so familiar, told her that Helena was biting the inside of her lip. “Harder than it is,” Helena finished at last.

“I’m sorry,” Myka said at once. She knew how intensely private Helena was. Even in Moscow, having almost died from cold, Helena had kept up her front, had tried to joke her way out of the awkwardness of Myka having to take care of her. And before that, when she’d told Myka about her daughter, and in Washington when they’d spoken at Dickinson’s funeral – Myka had known how hard it’d been for Helena to open up as much as she had. _Takes one to know one_ , she told herself. “Okay,” she said out loud, setting her chin. “Okay, so… so how is this going to happen? And what… what can I do to make this easy for you?”

“You don’t have to-” 

“I know,” it was Myka’s turn to cut off Helena now. “But I want to. Because believe it or not? We’re friends. I’m your friend. And I want to make this easy for you. Just like you wanted to do something good for me yesterday, am I right? You sure as hell didn’t _have to_ do that too; you wanted to. Because that’s what friends do.”

“Do friends typically bring their friends to orgasm to the point where they pass out?” Helena sounded stubborn more than anything.

Myka shrugged. “Some do. Apparently, we do. But that’s not the point.” She reached behind her and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. In its light, she saw Helena duck her head down, as if to hide. “Helena,” she said gently. “You made me feel incredible. I did… I did _need_ yesterday. What you did. It… it _was_ _good_. It did me good.”

“You’re not… you’re not angry, then?” 

Myka sighed. “It’s more like, I want to be angry, I know I should be angry, but I’m pretty sure that the way you feel right now is punishment enough. I mean it’s not like you used an artifact for personal gain.”

“Oh, I assure you I-”

“If you’re gonna tell me you got something out of it, better don’t,” Myka warned. Helena snapped her mouth shut, dropped her eyes and blushed fiercely. She looked so dejected that Myka relented. “Look, I get it,” she said. “So I’m not mad. Okay? I’m not. I don’t want you to ever do that again, to me _or_ to yourself, but I’m not mad at you. What I want to focus on right now is the downside and how to get you through it. Okay?” 

It took a few long seconds before Helena nodded, still not looking up. “Alright,” she whispered. 

“Alright,” Myka repeated reassuringly. “So, what do you know about it?” Then something occurred to her and she craned her neck to see Helena’s ankle. “You’re not still wearing the thing, are you?”

Helena shook her head, and pulled the sheets off her ankles as if to prove it. “No,” she said, “I took it off while you slept. It is safely in a neutralizer bag I brought for that very purpose.”

Myka nodded. “Good,” she said emphatically. “So. What do you know? Effects, duration, remedy?”

Helena cleared her throat. “I feel… compelled to… to divulge something. Something of importance to me; something equally… intimate as what I was privy to when you… when we… when I-” 

“Gotcha,” Myka said, taking mercy on a Helena she’d never seen so tongue-tied before. “Can you… can you choose what you’re gonna tell me or did it… I don’t know, pick through your brain, point to something and say, ‘here, that’?”

“No, I can… can choose. Have chosen, in fact,” Helena added, blush returning to her cheeks. “Once I reveal that to you, the effect should be over, unless the artifact considers the deal unequal, in which case the compulsion will persist.”

“Okay,” Myka said, nodding to reassure both Helena and herself. “Okay, that sounds straightforward. What can I do to make it easiest for you?” This time, since the light was on, she could see Helena bite the inside of her lip. She also realized that they both were, in fact, still completely naked. Helena wasn’t even wearing her locket. “Like, do you want to put some clothes on maybe?” Myka suggested therefore. “To feel less vulnerable?”

A brief smile flickered across Helena’s face. “In my case,” she said, “that would be counterproductive, as you will soon understand. But if you want to – if you’re cold – please by all means feel free to put on something.”

Myka shook her head. “No, I’m good,” she said. “You did turn the temperature up quite a bit. I’m good.” And she really didn’t want to put the two of them at an even more uneven footing by hiding her own nakedness, her own vulnerability, while Helena was compelled to disclose her own this way.

This time, when another smile crossed Helena’s face, it lingered longer, and Helena actually met Myka’s eyes during it, as if she could still somehow read Myka’s mind and knew Myka’s reasoning. Then Helena’s eyes dropped again, to watch her fingers twist the sheets. Myka could see her brace herself and knew that this was it. This was the moment.

“Please just… just listen,” Helena asked. “Listen until I am finished, and only then ask or… or judge.”

“Of course,” Myka said immediately. It was a more than reasonable request, after all. 

Again, Helena smiled her thanks. Again, her eyes dropped right afterwards. Then, there was another long moment of silence as, presumably, Helena collected her thoughts.

“One of the most insidious cruelties of the Bronze,” Helena began, “is that it… it takes away your senses. You can’t see, can’t hear, can’t smell of course, but you also don’t… experience physical touch anymore. It is as if you are outside of your body. In a way, given the sensations of the bronzing process, that’s a mercy, because that process is anything but painless, but…” Myka saw her swallow. Her own throat was dry, too, at the thought of how being bronzed must have affected Helena, would affect anyone in it. “It does… wear on one, after a while,” Helena went on. She now held a fold of the sheets in her hand and was running one of her fingers along it ceaselessly, almost mindlessly. “To be so fully divorced of any sense, of any way to perceive not just the world, but yourself. To wonder if you even still are a person, and not just a tangle of thoughts floating in the void.” 

Helena’s voice was strangely matter-of-fact, so much at odds with what it was she was actually saying that Myka, involuntarily, reached out to her. Helena was sitting a little too far for Myka’s hand to actually touch her, but Helena did look up at the motion. A very peculiar look crossed her face as her eyes fell on Myka’s hand – as if she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Then she gingerly reached out and touched it. Myka held her breath as Helena’s fingers ghosted across her own, then dropped away again. She slowly released her breath, then put her hand down on the sheets between them, for Helena to take if she so wanted. 

“Being unbronzed,” Helena went on, “is no less painful than the initial process, as is relearning your body’s senses. I remember being wrapped in finest silk – it was too rough; remember being spoken to in hushed tones – it was too loud; remember how utterly foreign even _breathing_ felt. I wasn’t afforded much time to come to terms with these things; MacPherson had plans for me, and as little as I knew about the world he put me in, I knew that _he_ could _not_ be trusted. When finally he sent me off to England, I was glad, because I anticipated that however much time had passed, however changed it was, London would still be London. And I’d be on my own – answerable to him, yes, but only remotely, via phone and electronic letters. He wasn’t breathing down my neck anymore, and I breathed all the more freely for it.” As if to remind herself of that feeling, Helena inhaled deeply.

“Having more time to myself also meant, though, more time to focus on how wrong I felt. Not only out of place in my own city – while yes, London was still London, the familiar sights and streets were still there, but so, too, were so many unfamiliar things; sights, sounds, smells. In a way it was worse than being in South Dakota had been; that had been a place I’d never been; of course everything was unfamiliar. This? London? Was the city I once knew like the back of my hand, and _a foreign place_ _at the same time_. The feeling was immensely distressing.”

Myka nodded her understanding – at least on some level, she could empathize with this. Coming back to Colorado Spring was a little bit like that, even after only a few years of college and working; heavens knew how alien a place must seem after a century.

“But I also felt out of place in what I was doing,” Helena went on. “Aiding and abetting a rogue Warehouse agent? What business had I, doing that? But most and worst of all, I felt out of place inside my own body. I won’t tire you with the medicinal aspects of it – let’s just say I felt utterly wretched and leave it at that – but I… I still felt disconnected, garbled, even incohesive at times. The feeling ebbed and flowed – worse in the mornings right after waking up, and at night in that tenebrous moment when one drops off to sleep. Better when I ate, still acceptable even when my body purged itself of what I had just consumed. Even so, there were times when the sensation of dysphoria assaulted me out of the blue, simply walking down the street. 

“It was one such moment,” Helena went on, “when I walked past an establishment that offered body embellishments – piercings and tattoos, of course, but more than that. I saw photos in the window of people with horns, forked tongues, and similar peculiarities, and I was intrigued. Technology had come far in so many fields; here I could see what forms of body modification were available these days, and maybe, just maybe, modifying my own body might help re-ground myself in it.” 

Myka stared at her. Helena was naked – fully, unapologetically naked. That must have been why she’d refused to put on clothes. But there were no tattoos that Myka could see, no piercings or… or _implants_. She’d felt Helena’s tongue yesterday; it had for sure not been _forked_.

What had Helena done?

Again, Helena gave that small, fleeting smile. Myka tried to school her features into something less dazed – she was pretty sure nobody would need a mind-reading artifact to know how bewildered she felt.

“I don’t need to remind you that tattoos were all the rage in my day, do I?” Helena asked, sounding so much like her usual self that it shook Myka out of her confusion. 

“I… didn’t know that,” Myka said with a small, self-conscious laugh.

Helena nodded. “For a while, it was seen as fashionable; wealthy ladies would decorate their bodies with them, quite lavishly in some cases.”

“Huh.” Myka fought to keep her eyes from roaming Helena’s body again – she knew there were no tattoos there. She’d seen that body, all of it, extensively. She knew. 

The small smile made its return, and this time, it lingered. “Do not doubt your power of observation,” Helena said. 

“Are you still reading my mind?” The words were out of Myka’s mouth before she could stop herself. 

The smile deepened. “No,” Helena replied, “I simply know you quite well by now.” She rose from the bed and turned slowly on the spot. “See? No tattoos in sight.”

Myka pursed her lips, feeling equal parts put out and called out. Helena did indeed know her well. “Okay, alright, I guess,” she said, fighting down a blush. To cover for it, she gestured towards Helena. “Go on. What happened?”

“I did get a tattoo,” Helena replied, sinking down onto the bed again. 

Myka blinked. “Come again?”

Helena’s eyebrows rose amusedly, and Myka felt her blush deepen, but then Helena dropped the double entendre possibilities, and repeated instead, “I did get a tattoo.”

“But…” 

“It was still early enough in the morning that the parlor had just opened and no customers were there. I talked with two of the artists – both women, as luck would have it. They understood my descriptions of how untethered I felt to my own skin as well as anyone could have who knows nothing of bronze and Warehouses. One of them showed me a folder with photographs of those of her pieces in which she’d covered up scars obtained through self-harm. When she described to me how and why people would engage in such behavior, I immediately understood the urge to make your body feel _something_ , something that _you_ controlled, even if it was pain. Then the other artist remarked how tattooing felt similar to her, and I understood that as well.”

Helena paused for a moment. Her fingers had found the crease in the sheets again, and were running across it over and over. Then she looked up at Myka beseechingly. “I don’t know if I can adequately express to you what that understanding meant to me,” she said. “It felt so right, so utterly and seamlessly fitting and correct. I asked if they could tattoo me right there and then, and they declined, albeit with a lot of apologies; their calendar was fully booked. Could I come back in five months? Five months!” Helena shook her head. “I had no hope of braving five more months of feeling this way, even knowing that art like theirs would wait for me if I did. When I told them no and prepared to take my leave, one of them held me back. She pressed a piece of paper in my hand – not even a calling card, just a handwritten name and address. ‘Seek _her_ out,’ she told me, and that she would be right for me, would know what to do to help.”

Helena huffed a small, reminiscing laugh. “The address was on the Isle of Man,” she went on, “not the easiest to get to, considering the time restraints I was under – but at that point, I did not care about MacPherson and his plans for me. I traveled to Douglas, the island’s main town, and from there to the village mentioned on the piece of paper, and finally, I found the farmstead that the address indicated. It was a wild day, and it fit my mood perfectly. 

“I did find a woman, on that farmstead. Even as I approached it, I knew I was in the right place, and when she opened the door, her face told me that she knew so, too. We didn’t talk much. She led me into a sitting room and left to fetch something, and when she returned, I knew I was in the presence of an artifact.” Helena held up her hand to stave off Myka’s interruption. “I was not there as an agent,” she said quietly. “I was there for help. Both she and I knew that. The artifact still remains with her, and I see no need for that state of things to change.”

“What was it?” 

“A piece of rock,” Helena replied. “It rested in an earthen bowl, and both bowl and rock looked old. Ancient. Pre-Roman certainly, if I had to make a guess. Both were pitch black, but the light refracted on the surface and brought forth blues, greens, purples, reds – even dark gold and bronze. The woman held the bowl out towards me, and instructed me to place my hands on the rock. It was comfortably large enough to do so, and dry even though it looked drenched. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ she told me, and then I felt a stinging pain in my left hand, as tough the rock had cut me. I pulled my hands away and saw that that had indeed happened.” Helena rubbed the root of her left thumb for a moment. “I saw a drop of my blood sit on the stone for a moment. It sank into it, and then the rock filled up the bowl with ink. And the woman set out to tattoo me with it.”

Helena held her left hand out to Myka. “Here,” she said, pointing to a faint thin line at the base of her thumb, “is where it cut me.”

Myka reached out, but hesitated before taking Helena’s hand into hers. “Is it… is this okay?” she asked. She had resolved to make this as easy for Helena as she could, after all, and that included respecting Helena’s boundaries when it came to physical touch. 

“Oh!” Helena seemed surprised by the question. “Yes. Of course.” 

Myka took hold of Helena’s hand and leaned forwards. She could see the line of the cut clearly now; it was barely half of an inch long, and much straighter than ‘cut on a rock’ would imply. She ran the tip of her finger over it, and Helena shivered. Immediately, Myka stopped. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” Helena replied, and Myka relaxed a little. 

“I… still don’t see-” she began, and then fell silent.

Like a drop of ink into water, color spread across the outside of Helena’s arm. Black, Myka saw, and then looked more closely and saw traces of blues, greens, and purples, just like Helena had said. And, yes, red and bronze and gold – feathers, she realized suddenly. Large, black feathers, darkly and splendidly iridescent. A raven’s wing, larger than life – the color spread up across Helena’s elbow, to her shoulder and beyond, and as Myka watched, she saw it appear on Helena’s other shoulder as well, until two wings folded themselves around Helena like a bird embracing its young.

They seemed to quiver, as if the bird in question was rooted between flight and fight, waiting – for what? 

Myka met Helena’s eyes and suddenly realized – waiting for her, Myka’s, reaction. 

“Tell me more?” she asked slowly. How could she react when she didn’t know if this had given Helena the help she’d sought?

Another tremble ran through the feathers – or maybe Helena just shivered? – and then settled again. Helena nodded. “Alright,” she said. “It hurt,” she went on, and added with a little roll of her eyes, “of course it did. It was done with modern material and technology, but no matter how sophisticated the machinery, no matter how highly skilled the artist, tattooing hurts.”

Myka, remembering her own tattoo, nodded wordlessly. 

“It was the pain that I had sought, though,” Helena went on. “Pain deliberately inflicted, grounding me within my skin like I hadn’t experienced since before I stepped into the bronzer. Pain to reflect the pain I felt, had felt for more than a century, of failing to save my daughter’s life, of being responsible for her death and William’s, of never seeing her again. I cried while she tattooed me, and she caught my tears in the basin, and returned them to me with her art. It might sound incomprehensible to you, but it was perfectly clear to me what was happening, and that it was _right_. It helped me regain my sense of self, helped me distinguish what was within my skin and what without, what was… what was I and what wasn’t.” Helena fell silent for a moment, then inhaled sharply and looked up at Myka. “Believe me,” she went on, “had this not happened, I would not have been able to speak with you as evenly, as coherently, as _sanely_ as I did when we ran into each other in my house a few days later.”

Myka blinked as the realization hit her – of course this had been when it had happened. 

Helena smiled again. She hadn’t withdrawn her hand; it still rested on Myka’s, warm and solid. The feathers started a few inches above Helena’s wrist; two large ones that went up beyond her elbow and seemed just as solid, just as real as Helena’s skin and bones, as though Myka could touch them and feel the individual barbs underneath her fingers instead of skin. 

Instead of doing so, though, Myka looked back up at Helena. “So it… it did help you?”

Helena nodded. “Immensely,” she said. “It is only visible when I want it to be, but I always know it is there. I hadn’t known it would be raven wings; she told me, afterwards, that the ink tells her what it needs to be. As I looked into what ravens symbolize, I realized the truth of that statement – the raven is a symbol of death, yes, but also of creation. And in the blackness of its plumage, its mourning garb as it were, there is color, hidden and sublime, but undeniably present. I tried to take heart in that; I clung to it as I traveled back to London, clung to it as I prepared to fulfil my task for James MacPherson, clung to it as I encountered you, in the hallway of my house, in a black coat of your own – and then you opened that coat and your blouse shone with brilliance, just like you. If before I would have been content with the dark hues of a raven’s wing, now I was mesmerized; now I was able – no, not just able to see color in my life again: I _wanted_ color in my life again; I wanted _you_ in my life, your easy competence, your strength, your intelligence. James MacPherson was my first run-in with an agent of Warehouse 13, and had he remained so, I would not have returned. But I met you, and you reminded me of what a Warehouse agent can be, what I used to be, what I might possibly be allowed to reclaim.”

Myka swallowed hard. “Glad I… could make a difference,” she brought forth. She’d known that Helena had been – was – drawn to her and goodness yes, she was drawn to Helena too, but… this was a lot to live up to. _No pressure,_ she told herself, suppressing a wild laugh at the thought. 

Helena squeezed Myka’s hand with a weirdly formal kind of finality, then let go and sat back with her hands settled in her lap. As she did so, the tattoo actually, undeniably moved – on ribs that had been free of ink before, feathers now appeared and spread out, perfecting the image of a pair of wings wrapping themselves around Helena’s torso and arms. 

“What the-” Myka began, then stopped herself. Who knew what else an artifact-enhanced tattoo could do? “Don’t tell me you can fly on these wings,” she tried to joke, but it sounded flat even to her own ears.

“No.” Helena shook her head. “No, these wings are only on my skin – but they can move freely across it, even grow or shrink as needed. A bit like a projection, perhaps.”

“When I…” Myka swallowed. “Back in London. When I handcuffed you to that chair. It must have been fresh then,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t that… did that hurt you? Your shoulders, your back, it…”

Helena released a sigh. “A bit,” she admitted. “Not all that much, compared to wearing the Imperceptor Vest, I will add that for your peace of mind.”

Myka shook her head darkly. “Doesn’t help a lot,” she said. Then she remembered something else and grew cold. “Tamalpais,” she exclaimed, “the grappler!”

“All healed by then,” Helena reassured her, “and Myka, even if it hadn’t been-” she stopped herself. 

Myka blinked. “Even if it hadn’t been – then what?”

She heard Helena swallow harshly. The feathers looked as though they were being rustled in unease, and Myka was distracted for a moment. “Do these… do these reflect your mood?” she said in wonder. 

“Oh!” Helena looked up at Myka, then down at the feathers on her arms and midriff. “Yes,” she said, sounding relieved at the change of topic. “Yes, they do. A part of one’s soul made manifest, the artist called it.” She gestured towards Myka. “A bit like the dæmons in those books you gave me, perhaps. It feels like that at times.” 

Myka’s jaw almost dropped. “You… never told me you’d read those.”

“I have read every book you recommended to me,” Helena said demurely. Then she dropped her gaze again and sighed. “No use evading it, though,” she said. “Myka, I thought that revealing this to you would satisfy the artifact’s aftereffects, but now I know it isn’t so. It isn’t enough.”

“Not enough that you’re basically showing me your dæmon?” Myka exclaimed. “Helena, I… you don’t need to tell me anything else, I-”

“But I must,” Helena insisted. Her mouth moved for a moment as though she was on the brink of saying more, then she snapped it shut with a frustrated groan. She stood up from the bed and started pacing in front of the window, feathers fluttering with her movement so lifelike that Myka could have sworn she heard them rustle.

Then Helena huffed a bitter laugh. “I might have misjudged my fortitude,” she said quietly. “I thought this would be easier to bear.”

“Being compelled to do something?” Myka asked.

“Yes!” Helena burst out, stopping in her tracks. “When I thought about revealing the tattoo to you, it felt right. It seemed like the appropriate disclosure; it seemed _right_.” When she ran a hand through her hair, the dark strands blended almost seamlessly with the feathers on her forearm. “And now I… now that I thought of… _that_ , I know that I need to tell you _that_ , and it does not sit well with me.”

Myka went through the conversation in her mind, trying to figure out what exactly Helena might mean by ‘that’. “What made you think of-” she began, then remembered. “You said ‘even if it hadn’t been’. Even if you hadn’t been all healed when you saved my life – then what would have happened?” Then she realized how pushy she sounded, and remembered something she herself had said. “I’m sorry,” she said, softening her voice. “You don’t need to answer that. Just… tell me what you need to tell me. And let me know if there’s anything I can do to make this easier for you.”

Helena released a shuddering breath and turned to the window. The sun had come up, and shone through the diaphanous inner curtain, shining stark contrast onto the white of Helena’s skin and the darkness of her hair and the raven’s wings. 

“I don’t… see anything you could do to help matters,” Helena said after a moment. 

Myka pondered this. “How about _I_ tell _you_ something, then?” she suggested. “Because Helena, no matter what you say, no matter what you’re going to disclose to me, I’m your friend, okay? I’ll try to understand, and I’ll do my best not to judge, and I’ll keep it just as much a secret as you do. I know I can’t just tell you to trust me and then you’ll magically do, but maybe me saying that you can trust me helps you realize, helps you _remember_ , that you can.”

She had no idea what Helena’s secret might be; she could see that Helena struggled, though. She seemed to struggle much more than Myka had yesterday, before she’d given herself over to Helena’s caresses, and that didn’t seem fair. 

“Take your time, okay?” she added. “Tell me, or show me, or write it down or whatever is easiest for you, at your own pace.”

“The longer I wait, the more it-” Helena began and then broke off with a frustrated groan. “Truly, this is upsetting. Not what I had planned at all.”

Seriously, as amazing as Myka’s orgasms had been, they weren’t worth this. Myka’s heart went out to Helena in sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

Instead of a reply, Helena drew her arms around herself, and her wings wrapped themselves around her like a stole. Myka could see her jaw work, could see her hands clench into fists. She wanted to reach out to Helena, wanted to hug her, hold her, tell her that everything would be alright, but she had no idea if Helena would even welcome a gesture like that right now. And while Helena rarely respected Myka’s personal space, always positioning herself just within it, the number of times she’d actually _touched_ Myka was… minuscule. Well, outside of yesterday, of course, but… sexual touches were something else, a different kind of intimacy. And even then, it had been Helena who had touched Myka, and that didn’t necessarily translate into it being okay for Myka to touch Helena now.

Helena looked as though she needed a hug, but she also looked like someone who wouldn’t _welcome_ a hug, in so many words. And that was a feeling Myka knew all too well. She did scoot to the foot end of the bed, though, to be a bit closer to Helena, to offer the consolation of closeness, if not actual touch. _I’m here,_ she wanted to tell her. _Whatever happens, I’m here.  
_  
“When I saved you with my grappler,” Helena began, slowly, haltingly, as if reading scripture in a foreign language, “even if I hadn’t been all healed by then, your arms around me meant more to me than any pain from any wound. For when you held onto me as we flew towards the sky, it was the first time that I’d felt arms around me since…” she swallowed, coughed a little, and cleared her throat, “since Christina embraced me before she left me for Paris,” she finished tonelessly. 

Myka’s jaw went slack as she pondered just how long that had been. 

“Yet as you clung to me then,” Helena went on, still staring out of the window, “as you wrapped your arms around me last night and this morning, I felt panicked more than soothed. While part of me cherished our embrace, a much larger part of me wanted nothing better than to flee, to run away and hope you would never come looking.” 

For a moment longer, she gazed unseeingly outside, then she turned to Myka. The early morning light had leached all traces of color from her eyes, leaving them black and haunted. Emotions ran across her face like quicksilver, too fast to follow. Again, her mouth shaped unspoken syllables. Myka wondered if she was trying to find the right words, or trying to fight against the compulsion to tell her anything of this at all.

“Myka,” Helena said finally, “your touch unravels me, and that scares me more than anything ever has.” Before Myka could reply to that, Helena held up a hand to stop her. “Because I…” Again, she stopped. Again, her lips moved. Then she continued, “I feel that I both know and don’t know what you’ll find at the heart of me, and both ideas frighten me. And I both want and don’t want you to find out regardless, and that frightens me even more.”

Myka could see that fear clearly; never before had she seen such an unguarded expression on Helena’s face. She didn’t know if that was the artifact’s doing or Helena’s choice; she didn’t know if she should honor Helena’s braveness or look away to grant her privacy. _Fuck that damn anklet._ “And yet you put this artifact on,” she burst out, “ _knowing_ that this was in the… in the realm of possibility, as an aftereffect. Weren’t you worried, at all, that something like this would happen?”

Unguarded as Helena’s eyes were, Myka could see something shoot through them – an answer, arrived at not through careful cogitation but through sudden realization; she knew, too, what that answer was, and when Helena lifted her head and proclaimed, “No,” Myka knew that reply for what it was: a complete lie, and at the same time the fullest truth Helena had ever told. 

And a turning point. Whatever had just happened, whatever realization Helena had come to, it had changed something in her, something fundamental, something pivotal. Myka didn’t know what it was, only that it ran deep, and that, if she was any judge, if Helena was anything like her-

Helena turned and, without a further word, left the room. 

Myka nodded to herself and let her go.


End file.
